


Controlled Disaster

by MyRegardstotheReader



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Becoming an assassin., F/M, Mercenaries, Romance, Slow Burn Romance, Smut, attack on ex's, mercenaries who might have fallen in love, the whole package kind of thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5010496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyRegardstotheReader/pseuds/MyRegardstotheReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor Zsasz is all about control and order, his life as Falcone's mercenary has granted him the ability to keep it that way. But when a hurricane of a woman moves into his peaceful neighborhood, he finds that his life is no longer as in control as he would like. The Underworld of Gotham is going up in flames, he can only work what he can and hope for the best. Because Blaire Roberts has become his responsibility, Victor is sure she'll get herself killed or worse here in Gotham. She's one of the nicest people he's met, and people like that don't survive in Gotham. Blaire Roberts is to become his newest project... his own little controlled disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still undecided if this story will also be intertwined with my Parasol (oswald cobblepot) fanfiction. Leave a comment below if you think I should put them in the same universe or not. Also... Victor doesn't get enough love, so I'm giving him some =)

Victor prided himself on the fact that he picked the best home long ago, when he first moved in he knew that it was a good pick. There were only three other houses on the dead end street, and all three were spaced out far enough he didn’t have to hear parties or the like. One house was, as far as he knew, unsellable. The one across the street though, it had been occupied by a little old lady for the entirety for his choice of his own home. He would leave early in the morning to drive towards the inner city and smile at her as she sat on her porch, reading and drinking tea. Her small black lab was always happy to come up and say hello, and they made small talk. The little old lady was nice, but not curious. She obviously knew Gotham, even better than he, and never asked about his late nights or early mornings. Never questioned his dark clothes or lack of hair. Only said he had a good smile, even better boots. 

This was his neighborhood and he liked it that way.

That peace was disrupted in the summer just before Meroni’s death and Falcone’s retirement. Victor Zsasz walked outside on June first to go for a jog at 5 am as he usually did and saw a new thing in his neighborhood. A moving truck, at the little old lady’s home. They were unloading in the wee sprinkles of the morning, and the old lady was out on the porch, coaching them on where to go. The lab jogged up to see him as usual but the woman didn’t call him back. Victor allowed the dog to jog next to him around the block, until the lab decided to head back home. 

The woman was not moving out. 

Someone was moving in.

Victor liked his things in order. His suit pressed, his shoes shined, his house orderly, his bed was always made in the morning. So he could admit this new change to his atmosphere was not only noticed, but disliked. Because the movers were messy, putting boxes along the curb of the driveway, things here and there. But more so, it was a change. He had hoped it was a man, maybe the woman had found love so late in life. 

Victor was wrong, and he hated to be wrong. 

Stopping in front of her house, he nodded in acknowledgement at the woman as she flicked a smile his way. “Hello Mr. Zsasz.” She called out.

“Ms. Roberts.” He nodded back at her, only his eyes darted to the truck. It was then he was answered as a female came out the front door and onto the porch.

“Grandma, do you want coffee, I’m making a pot.” The female smiled and Victor felt his whole body go still. The female stood in a pair of plain jeans and a soft green tank-top, her black bra obviously showing over the top. Her hair was up in a pony-tail but it was stuck to her, she was obviously helping with the boxes. 

“No, Blaire, I’m good with my tea.” The old woman answered before looking to Victor. “Victor, this is my grand-daughter, Blaire.”

It was the smile on her lips that he was attracted, she had an honest smile, it was sweet and innocent. Her eyes seemed to be made of blue crystals and her eyelashes were long and thick. Victor didn’t have to tell himself what he felt, it was a basic attraction. He found that he liked the idea of someone good hearted, it was smiles he found what made people attractive. If their smile was brilliant, then their physical attributes followed suit. 

“Hi!” She waved, her eyes following her grandmother’s out to Victor. He flashed a short wave as she smiled to him, her smile even grew a bit before she turned back to her grandmother. “Okay, I’m going to go chug some coffee, then work on my room more.”

The woman left a kiss on her grandmother’s cheek and entered the house again. 

“She seems nice.” Victor called out, a soft twitch of his own lips as the old woman nodded. 

“Yeah, she is.” No clues, nothing. This woman knew Gotham too well. The girl was obviously a mystery that she was not going to unfold on Victor. That’s fine, he thought to himself as he continued on his jog around the dead end and into the woods behind his house for another lap. He liked his world in order, and to keep it that way, he would have to figure out where this new comer lay in it. Hopefully she would be like her grandmother, and stay out of things that she did not belong in.


	2. Soap in One's Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaire wallows in the move before being pressed with an even bigger matter... what is her neighbor doing... and why are those girls on leashes?

Chapter one: Soap in one’s mouth.

Blaire sat on her bed, a whole day of moving was physically exhausting but not mentally. It wasn’t till it was late, it wasn’t till the sun was down and all the boxes were cleared to the corner of her room, that she felt mentally tired. Tears came to her eyes as she clung to her pillow, stifling sobs and repressing the horrible feeling in her gut. She wished she had never said anything.

“Blaire?” Sarah Roberts, her grandmother pushed open the door and frowned hard. Shuffling in her bunny slippers, she moved over to the side of the bed and sank into it. The creak of the bed made Blaire look to the woman, then shuffle to her grandmother’s arms.

“Shhh… dear, you’ll be okay. It will be all okay.” Her grandmother whispered softly in her ear as she lay her head on the soft of her grandmother’s robe. Gasping for air, she let it out and her grandmother pulled her in close. Tears and sobs wrecked her body as she curled around her grandmother and let out all those emotions she repressed in her body. 

“I’m a wreck.” She whimpered, nuzzling her grandmother’s shoulder. Sarah smiled as she placed a soft kiss to her grand-daughter’s hair. 

“A beautiful wreck, and you’ll become an even more beautiful disaster.” She chuckled as Blaire let out a laugh, choked by her tears, but it was a start. Pulling back, Blaire looked to her grand mother, not sure what to say. “Go on, take the night, throw a fit, punch the pillows, be a wreck. But in the morning, I want you cleaned and brushed and out for your run, because this is not going to ruin you Blaire. You’ve always been my little disaster child, but you’re going to be just fine. Besides, we’re Roberts… must keep a clean face in public dear. Specially after the hurricane you caused.”

Blaire let out another laugh as she nodded. Dabbing her eyes, she wished her grandmother a good night and watched the woman leave the room. She wasn’t wrong. Blaire was a disaster and always had been. When in public it seemed like she had her life together, but she really didn’t. If she didn’t have it attached to her, she might actually forget her head at home some days. She was a mess, but she had always made it out okay. Until recently.

After Jefferson, she didn’t want anything to do with her old life. The life of the high and mighty heiress was behind her. Her in-laws could lose her number, her charity functions could forget her face. Especially after she threw the half million dollar ring into the river next to the yacht club. 

Slumping down in her bed, she pulled on the lamp chord, watching the room go dark. It was nice to be in the darkness, that way there was no proof other than her wet pillow that she was crying. Curling up on her side, she looked out the window of her room and watched the dark street for a long time. Her grandmother liked her privacy, and hated the lime life as it was. Blaire had been raised modest, here in this tiny house most of her young life. But when her mother sent her off the boarding school, she got a taste of the life. Sparkling dresses and grape juice that she traded up to gowns and champagne. Boys in suits that grew into suitors, men who wanted her hand for her blood line and jaw line. It had been beautiful and fun, but like her own mother, she could not stand in the light for long. 

It’s like they say, you fly too close to the sun and all…. and Blaire’s wings were burnt to a crisp… or completely melted wax. Whatever. 

That’s when a light flashed and a car seemed to pull into the neighborhood. Blaire looked to her phone and slapped the button, watching it light up. She had been crying and dosing in and out of consciousness for about 5 hours it seemed. It was 3 am, and she slipped from her bed. Walking up to her window, she peered through the shades, spying as best she could in the darkness of their dead end. It was the Victor man, and her interest sky rocketed. He was stepping out of his dark vehicle in complete black. From the lights on in his car, she could see three things that made her heart skip a beat. He was not alone, there were two girls in the car, all dressed in gothic couture He was holding what looked like two leashes as the girls came out of the back of his car. He was also holding a blade, or something blade like that reflected as he closed the doors and locked his car.

Blaire couldn’t believe the man in red gym shorts and a grey t-shirts from this morning was the same man… holding two girls on a leash! Maybe she was just hallucinating. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep. Blaire forced herself to turn away and go to bed, but not before she took one more look. What sealed the deal for her was looking through the blinds again to see the man turned in the glow of his front lights, he was clearly looking at their house. It felt like he was staring right at her, and with a squeak, she jumped in her skin back to her bed.

Maybe her grandmother was right. Best not to dig into the lives of others… weird things were sure to be found. 

Not to mention this was Gotham. Her curiosity would get her killed. … or maybe her kindness… that too. 

Blaire woke in more of a groggy state than she had anticipated and schlumped her way to the shower in the most pathetic sort of way. She slapped at the faucet till it turned on then nearly fell in when she stumbled into the tub itself. Closing the cloth curtain, she stretched out, nearly forgetting to strip before the water began to hit her shoulder. Her pajama bottoms attempted to make her eat shit as she slapped and cursed at the tile, throwing them to the floor as the water grew more intense. 

It was here, in the shower, her phone somehow turned on and playing music she didn’t think she had the mental capacity to perform at the moment, that she realized a good fact she should take into consideration. Drenched like a rat, blinking away dried tears and sleep from her eyes, she found the bathroom had a front facing window like her room. It was not a foggy glass and she had not drawn the curtains before doing so. For twice in the last few hours, Blaire took in a shot at her mystery of a neighbor and had no idea how to proceed with it. Because he was dressed in a sharp navy blue suit, dusting off his pants. Pulling the curtain closed around everything but her head, Blaire peered out with narrowed eyes, sleep deprived and suspicious of the man she was certain had girl’s chained in his basements.

Did these houses have basements?

Just then, two females came out of his front door in clothing just as fashionable as he. One a pencil skirt that had dotted lines that were faint but brilliant against her dark skin, her top was a matching contrasted white blouse with a blazer over it, fitted to her. The other wore suit pants that were navy, a white tucked in blouse under a navy vest. They looked like fashion models, climbing into his expensive black car. 

Creepily sliding back into her shower, making sure the curtains were tucked all the way and stepped back into the water. She was going to have to draw those curtains… and figure out who the hell her neighbor was.

“Blaire?”

“I’m in the shower!”

“Your breakfast is on the counter, I’ll be outside if you need me.”


	3. Pity Party for two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor finds out a fun fact about blaire's past, and they finally have a decent conversation.

Chapter two: Pity party for two

Victor had not let the fact that every night when he rolled up his neighbor's window shade seemed to shift slip him. He also noticed that the second day after Blaire Roberts had moved in, her bathroom was drawn shut most mornings. Victor did not let slip that she ran every morning at 10 AM, that she ate lunch with her grand mother on the porch, even read a bit, but spent most of her time indoors. 

He also did not let it slip his attention that three days after she arrived that a dark cadillac rolled up to the house. He was in his lawn, mowing it actually, when he saw it roll up. He stopped his mower actually, he stood there, hands on his hips and brows, or lack thereof, cocked in curiosity. Victor Zsasz knew better than to mess in someone elses business, but she had been spying on him, he was allowed the same courtesy. 

It was 10:40, his watch clicked as he looked down to the time. Blaire would be coming around the corner any minute. As two people, rich and elite he could see by their stance and clothing, climbed out of the car like royalty. Blaire was rounding the corner and stopped in her tracks. The three seemed to make eye contact and he could feel the panic all the way down the road and across the street. 

That’s when she looked to him and he instantly knew what was going on. Smart girl! She jogged across the street as if she hadn’t even seen them and down the side-walk. It was at this time that her grandmother came out at the time she usually did to sit on her porch. Book and tea pitcher in hand, her glass was out there already thanks to Blaire. She seemed to set out her grandmother’s chair and glass, even glasses, while she stretched for her run. 

“Morning… Daphne… Edgar… how wonderful to see you.” Ms. Roberts called from the porch as she settled her things then herself in her chair. By the time they turned around, Blaire was already at Victor’s lawn. Covered in sweat and panic, she jogged up to him keeping her back to them.

“Friends of yours?” Victor smirked as she let out a sheepish laugh, working on her heart rate and getting it lower. Victor walked to his water bottle on his porch and took it up, offering it to her. He didn’t ever need the water, it was more for looks really. But he always had it there when he did his lawn or jog. 

“Thanks.” She smiled brightly, taking it and a swig from it, breathing out with shakey breaths. “Do you mind if I pretend to talk with you…”

“So… not friends.” Victor chuckled. Blaire looked at him with those crystal eyes and for a moment he wasn’t sure his joke had reached her. Then like a slow burning candle, her lips spread into a grin and she nodded.

“No, they’re not.” She chuckled softly, brushing her hair off her forehead and swiping her sweat on her leggings. Victor knew she had atleast 7 pairs of leggings and three different jeans that he knew of. She jogged in leggings, mostly black ones but she had atleast 4 different black ones, one pair of pink, one blue, one sea foam green with blue waves on them. She wore different tank-tops with all of them. He prided himself on knowing those he looked after, and Blaire Roberts he definitely looked after. She was still an unknown. 

“Who are they?” He asked, nodding towards them. 

Blaire groaned before handing him back the water bottle. “My ex-in-laws.” She stated.

“Ouch.” Victor made a faux hiss as he said it and the two chuckled as she bounced back and forth between her feet slowly, slowing down her heart beat even more. 

“Yeah, I had hoped that my last public fiasco would satiate their need to badger me. I even gave back his ring… kind of.” She made a face like she was mulling over her decision and Victor smirk, eyeing her. Crystal eyes looked up and she broke into a smile, chuckling lightly. 

“You broke the ring?”

“No… I returned it to where it came from… the ocean.” She fiddled with her fingers and Victor broke into a laugh. She laughed with him, holding her hips as she bent slightly to laugh, Victor leaning his elbow on the lawn mower handles. He watched how her eyes crinkled with her laugh, how she seemed to smile with her whole body, she beamed like the sun when she did so. Victor would be lying if he didn’t like it about her. 

“Nice.” He snorted lightly as she bowed ever so slightly.

“Thank you, I’m here all week.” She spoke with cheek before grinning and shrugging, “or for the rest of my life. I don’t know.” 

Victor smiled before looking over her shoulder. He nodded his chin that direction and Blaire turned to look. The two glared at her as they returned to the car and the little old lady waved them good bye. “Seems you have been saved.” 

Blaire sighed in relief and nodded. “Seems so.” Victor did not miss the way she relaxed her shoulders, even breathed easier as the car drove down and out of the dead end. His eyes watched her body language extensively as she turned back around, loose and soft smiles to him. “You saved me too.”

Victor cocked a brow at her as she stepped back slowly. “Do I win something?” He teased. The laughter in her eyes was enough as she turned around and seemed to float back to her home, as if the whole thing didn’t happen. Victor felt her physical sunshine in his bones as he turned around and started up his mower again. She was still an uncontrolled variable.

Victor finished mowing his lawn ten minutes later than scheduled.


	4. Nearly tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Blaire go out for a night on the town, that ends in far more party than they were looking for.

Chapter three: Nearly Tears

Blaire was out late at night, sat on the porch and staring out to the grass below. The sun had long ago gone down, but she had no wish to go inside. Even the small amounts of bugs and pitch black could force her inside. Her heart was empty and she felt like she couldn’t even move if she were lit on fire. They wanted to sue her! SUE! HER! What had she done? She threw a fit at a party, she threw a gift into the water! What did they do?

Sarah had suggested they just pay the settlement and leave it be. But Blaire didn’t want to see the smug look on Jeffersons’ face when she signed the papers. She had a whole week to decide if it was something she wanted to do. Not that she wanted to do it, but she wouldn’t sign off on it today. Just to get away from them, she was too… not proud. Hurt. She was still hurt on the inside. Three years couldn’t just be erased in one night because she wasn’t the bouncing baby princess they wanted. 

Jefferson dropped her like rotten goods in the trash, he was even dating again. Some other socialite that could do better. Rolling her eyes, she huffed, done with her small pity party atleast for the night. That’s when she saw the lights go on in the front of Victor’s porch and her heart stopped. He was leaving? He had not left all day, and now he was leaving. He stood on his porch, locking up and stepping down towards his drive way when he saw her there, staring at him.

“Hello.” He called as she smiled weakly and flashed a hand. “What are you doing?” He stepped to the driveway. Blaire liked his clothing, he always looked spot on, no matter what he wore. When he was mowing the lawn he was in designer sweat pants and a long sleeve shirt. He wore dark jeans now, a matching belt and a top. Men’s fashion was so weird, but then again, female fashion couldn’t be any weirder. 

“Having a pity party.” She answered with a frown. He seemed to debate her answer before flashing his hand. He was… waving her over? Blaire jumped up onto her feet and walked down her own driveway.

“Come on, misery loves company.” He chuckled with that signature smirk of his. Blaire wondered how many people he made blush with that smirk. Maybe it was the leather gloves. What was he? A vogue model. Probably… after all… this was Gotham. Stepping up, he opened the passenger side door and motioned for her to get in. Maybe she ought to have questioned it, maybe known this man longer than a few days in passing. 

“You’re not… a serial killer, are you?” She eyed him, and she wanted to take his smile as one of his dry humor smiles, but then he leaned in close.

“Guess you’ll have to find out, huh?” He shut the door and walked to his side. Blaire flinched and squirmed a bit, not sure if she liked his choice of jokes. But when he stepped in and shut the door, he did the most peculiar thing. She watched in amazement as the man checked all his mirrors, buckled in, sat up straight and turned on the car. As if everything had to be just so as he turned the key in his car and the radio slowly purred to life. It had started as a radio comercial, but just as it ended the media hooked up and his ipod he had hooked up seemed to connect. 

Soft jazz played through the speakers and Blaire let her mouth fall open. She didn’t even… know jazz. She didn’t know anything about him, but this was the last thing she imagined him to listen to. “Do you not like it?” He asked as he put his arm behind her seat and turned to look out the rear window. 

Unlike his soft jazz, Victor was not actually a soft driver. He hit the gas pedal, nearly floored them backwards and onto the road, then just as suddenly as he was on the road, they were flying forward and out of the dead end they lived on. His lights were bright on the dark road as they floored down the road and out of the small neighborhood on the outskirts of Gotham.

“I just… I didn’t expect it.” She gasped as she realized she hadn’t answered. His arm still rested behind her seat, but that wasn’t what made her jumpy. It was him, he swerved and merged like he was in the fast and the furious, and to make it better, his stops were smooth, so it always felt like they were going 80, no matter what. “Erm… I guess… I should ask, where we’re going?”

“To a party.” He answered point blank. “In the city, at Fish-Mooney’s.” He answered and Blaire looked down to her clothes.

“I… I hadn’t realized… I wouldn’t… erm… well… am I under dressed? I’ve never been… what’s a … fish-mooney? Is that a bar or a disease?” She babbled a bit as she straightened in her seat. She wore a pair of suit pants, a flowy top on that and a pair of flats. She hadn’t even changed since the meeting with the lawyers and her ex-in-laws. Victor’s laugh brought her out of her haze as she looked up from her clothes to him.

“Yes, you’re fine. Are you a nervous partier?” He teased.

“No, actually, I’m a party-girl… or atleast, I used to be.” She sighed as she made a few grimace-esk faces as she thought on it. “A high-end party girl, champagne and gowns more expensive than my car.” 

Victor raised his brows. “It would make sense, your ex-in-laws being stuck up dressed as they are.” He retorted.

“Hey, you have no room to talk of fashion choices. What did you do? Walk out of a magazine of play-girl? I wanted to accuse you of being a male model but your too snarky to be a model. And I’ve met my fair share of models.” She replied and he laughed again. Blaire brimmed with a smile as he laughed harder, slapping his hand to the wheel and nearly swerving them into a building as they rounded a corner. Blaire held onto the car as she let out nervous giggles. Maybe next time they hung out, she ought to drive. 

“No, I’m not a model. But I appreciate the comment all the same.” He smirked as he pulled his car into a parking space. Blaire didn’t feel the stop but she had to take a moment to pull herself together in the seat. He climbed out of the seat and she followed, realizing all too late that her cellphone and wallet were back at the house. Only, following him around the streets and the side-walks, she found she didn’t need the wallet, and who would she call?

The idle chit-chat that happened between them seemed natural. Blaire spoke of not knowing this side of town, he teased her for being an elitist for never dirtying her toes here, she called him a butt-head, and they were both laughing. It was easy, and she was smiling, bouncing even in her step as she pointed out things, chattering on about this or that. Victor didn’t speak a whole lot, he left that to her. But he listened and truly listened, he would have small moments to reply or acknowledge her thoughts and Blaire thought it was nice.

Because unlike Jefferson who only drowned out her babble and bubbles, Victor listened. Even when it was nonsense, like about how she liked the design of a down-town shop that they past. It was open past 10 and it was lit up like a purple maze, it was beautiful with sparkles of green and silver. He smiled and nodded, speaking one word or two. 

“You’re happy often.” He commented as they stood just a few feet from a club. It was loud, she could hear it blaring out even through closed doors.

“I like to think of myself as a hufflepuff.” She grinned happily, only to look at him with wide eyes. “You’re joking! You’re actually joking. You’ve never read harry potter?” 

“No, I haven’t.” He eyed her only to go tense when she slapped her hands on his biceps and looked up into his eyes. He seemed taken back by her suddenly leap towards him and eagerness to look him closely in the eye.

“Oh do I have something in store for you.” She brimmed, even in the dark underbelly of the city she felt happy. Brimming with her sunshine. Her grandmother commented on her sunshine, saying she was made out of sunshine and unicorns.”But to answer your question, yes… I’m ten percent human, ninety percent unicorn’s and rainbows.” 

Victor let out a snort as she let him go and went sauntering towards the club. She didn’t want to bore him with her self hate, or even the pity party going on in the back of her mind. Because if she delved back there, she’d be stuck there in that dark place. And she liked to be here, in this good place. “Unicorns and rainbows?” He teased.

“Don’t tease me, I’ll shoot rainbows out of my fingers… even the likes of the gothic vogue model can’t withstand my brightness.” She winked at him as he took ahold of the door and waved her to go in. She missed the way his eyes traveled her as she said it, but didn’t miss the smirk on his lips as she turned inside the hallway to the club. 

“You don’t have to pretend.” He whispered in her ear, as the music was ten times louder. His closeness wasn’t devouring her until he looked down at her, pulling back straight and those dark eyes seemed to pull her in. Blaire couldn’t make herself step back as her smile fell, but there was no frown.

“It’s just who I am.” She confessed as if she had no air in her lungs as she worried her lower lip for a moment and physically forced herself to step back. “And besides… just because I am sad, doesn’t mean I’m not … I’m not a…”

“Bunny Rabbit?” Blaire whirled around, eyes wide and heart skipping a beat as she looked to find Jefferson standing just inside the club. Blaire’s mouth hung open as he looked to her, then the male beside her. “What are you doing here?”

“What party is this… Victor?” Blaire’s voice was shakey at best as she turned to him slowly. He put a hand on her arm and slowly backed her from her spot, towards the door.

“One we don’t need to attend.” But Blaire hesitated as her and Jefferson locked eyes. Blond and all cheekbones, he was gorgeous as always. The same man she fell for a year and a half ago, he was still beautiful and evil as ever. Because as their eyes met, he broke it off to look to the blond on his arm and devour her lips. 

“Yeah… let’s go.” Blaire was broken as she whirled around and stormed out not only the door but out of the alley. Back towards Victor’s car. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so bubbly. She felt that pity-party coming back up like vomit in her throat. No… no…. that was actual vomit. Hand on the wall beside her, she planted her hips against it to and let her river of stress and emotions come pouring out. The feeling of soft gloves against her throat soothed her as her hair was pulled back and another hand on her back. 

“I had no idea.” Victor was soft and matter of fact, but Blaire wanted to believe it was apologetic.

“I know,” She murmured, accepting what looked like a handkerchief to dab the sides of her mouth. Thankfully, she had not gotten anything on herself, and even better, nothing on her shoes. Blaire stood up as she inhaled slowly, letting go of the air just as slowly.

“Do you still want to school me in the ways of your Harry Potter?” He asked and Blaire looked at him. This time she was certain, there was concern in it as she smiled softly. It didn’t feel full hearted, but it was enough for him to run his gloved hand over her hair. “I could break his fingers.”

Blaire let out a snort, not realizing truly why he thought it was funny enough to chuckle at, but she shook her head. “No… No violence… they’re already sueing me for making a ‘Mockery’ of them… don't’ need to add aggravated assault to that as well.” 

Victor shrugged nonchalantly and moved towards his car. “Onto the next party then.” He announced as he motioned for her to follow. Blaire watched him then quickened what had been a slow pace to catch up to him.

“Wait… why break his fingers? what are you a mobster?” She teased, catching up to him and looking him the face.

“Do I look like a mobster?” He asked with a teasing smile on his lips. Blaire already felt the effects of seeing Jefferson slip away as she narrowed her eyes on him.

“I will figure out what your job is, one day.” She whispered as he leaned in closer to her with the same knowing smirk.

“Never.” He winked as he nodded in a new direction and she followed. Without question.


	5. Stitching up old wounds / Unless the Dead Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor is given a job he just... can't... pass up.  
> ***Edit, so I realized that I was missing a chapter, so here is two chapters in one!

Chapter four: Stitching up old wounds

Victor did not necessarily need a good reason to roust this boy. It was obvious what his presence had done to Blaire’s emotional state the night before. If the vomit wasn’t enough to harden his resolve to knock that high and mighty ass down a few pegs, it was the way she looked for those fleeting moments. She bounced back, but for a moment he could see it in her face and he would not stand for it. He just needed a name.

Victor was at Fish-mooney’s about one in the afternoon. Falcone did not need his assistance today, and he was allowed the luxury of hunting for his own pleasure this time. Stepping into the parlor, Victor stood still as Butch turned from the table him and Fish put her hand up. The girl on the stage seemed to go quiet as the two turned around. The blond and two males on stage practicing… goodness knows what, Victor rolled his eyes and stepped down. 

“Victor… what a pleasant surprize.” Fish purred as she slipped up to her feet like the graceful cat she was. Her eyes were pointed and enclosed in gold. “No Cho? Bean?” 

“No, the girls have a day off today.” He answered as he cocked a brow to Butch. The lunk of a man looked right at him, then sighed and stood. Walking from the spot, he walked towards the office and Victor and Fish met in the middle. Leaning against the counter, Victor folded his hands in front of him, he eyed her before his lips turned upwards.

“I have a small favor to ask.” He stated point blank. “Last night there was a man in here. 24 I supposed, my height, blond hair, sharp jaw line. Wore silver and grey, elite status but probably pissed you off doing so. Doesn’t come here often.”

Fish’s eyes narrowed as she nodded. “Oh, I remember him. So do my bartenders. Bastard forgot to pay.” She purred with malice as she turned to the bar. Victor watched as her 4 inch heels brought her around the counter, her blue scales shimmered as her hips moved and she leaned over the counter. Then she sat three papers in front of him. 

Victor took up the photograph of the man at the bar, obvious from Fish’s security system, but it was effective. His face was clear and it was definitely the boy that Blaire had the heart attack over. He put it down as he looked over the other two. One was a camera picture, obviously someone had posted it on social media and Fish snatched it off as her club was tagged. That’s where he saw the user name. The last picture was the boy’s name and location, his instagram page and everything. 

This was the easy part, hunting the boy down. The fun part would showing him how to treat people, obviously the male needed lessons in proper human functioning. “He obviously has the money to pay his bar tab.”

“Yes, he does. But bastard handed my bartender a fake card and left. Didn’t even care that anyone can find him. Bet he doesn’t even care, thinks daddy will save him from everything.” Fish hissed sourly, before her lips split in a grin. “Why do YOU want him?”

Victor smirked just as maliciously as he looked Fish in the eye. “Combined interest, I suppose.” He answered, turning with the three papers. “Consider it done, I’ll return with your money Fish.”

“Please and thank you.” She called after him as Victor turned the corner and walked down the hall towards the door. The ringtone that was to his non-contact numbers went off as he stepped out into the sun of the street. Flipping it open, he pressed the phone to his ear. It was...a telemarketer. Clicking his phone shut as his feet moved towards his car, he unlocked it and settled in. Fixing his mirrors just in case, he took inventory of where his car was parked then pulled out onto the road. No traffic this early in the under-belly of Gotham. Good, he would just have to find what was probably a hung over Jefferson, as his name read. 

Who names their son Jefferson? Elitist assholes…. maybe he was just being harsh. Not all Jefferson’s were elitist. Just as much as not all Victor’s were mercenaries. Not all victors…. He laughed to himself as a darker, more twisted choice of music back to play. His game music was thick with guitar and hushed voices, it filled him with the emotions he needed. Not that he really need to be pumped to hurt someone, but it certainly didn’t hurt. 

Victor stopped at a gas station and pulled out his phone, dialing Bean’s number.

“What’s up?” The sound of a girl just waking up was heard over his phone. She always answered after the first ring, which is why he always rang Bean instead of Cho, and Lisa was still new to the group, wasn’t as well restrained or trained for that matter. 

“I need you to locate a man named Jefferson Michaelson.” He spoke into the phone. Shuffling as Bean shifted and the sound of a bed creaking rang over his ear. 

“Loading.” She mumbled as her computer started up. The sounds of whispers on the side of the phone were heard as the phone switched speakers. “Morning Boss. Bean’s pulling up program now.”

Lisa was far too chatty, but he didn’t mind the babble as she talked with Bean and Cho. Background noise to his brain that was reeling in different direction. “You said Jefferson Michaelson… Blonde, rich boy, bad attitude?”

“Exactly.” Victor answered Lisa who snorted. 

“He’s on Tenth street and Paladin, looks like he’s in his home. Here’s Bean.” The phone switched again.

“He lives on the tenth floor, pent-house, seems he’s alone, as there are no other phones or the like up there with him.” Bean instructed. 

“Thank you.” Victor flicked his phone shut and stuffed it back in his pocket. He imagined his girls were just waking up and would forget he even called. It was their day off, they could do with it as they pleased. Cho liked to lounge on couches and read historic fiction, or just history. Bean liked to binge watch netflix shows she had missed and wear nothing but filthy gym shorts and a t-shirt. Lisa liked to shop, and usually used her pay to get clothes for her and the other two. 

He revved his engine and tore out of the parking lot. Victor let his eyes scope out the time. It was now 1:50, and he sighed. He hated when time-lines weren’t kept. Blaire had said she would call when she woke up, tell him how she was doing. Victor was in need of her status update, as she had done rollercoasters the night before. They left the underbelly and found a new club, one neither of them frequented. She then proceeded to swear she could out-drink a stranger at the bar, which she was not wrong. Victor abstained from alcohol, especially if he was driving. Made it hard to be him if he was intoxicated. 

But Blaire drank what looked like a navy man and his mates under the table, proceeded to dance till she couldn’t stand and was sweating through her top and dropped the top on Victor’s table, her tank-top barely hid her bra but everyone in the club seemed to be dressed like it. Victor liked the atmosphere, and he would dance near her, but mostly he stayed near a booth along the dance floor and watched. The intoxicated Blaire whirled around and around, danced then about 2 am, she broke down into tears and cried in Victor’s arms for a good thirty minutes, he was sure she vomited in the bathroom when he deposited her there, but she gave no sign she had. It had been a whirlwind of emotions Victor was not all too used to dealing with.

Blaire was a disaster it seemed, and Victor was all about order and control. He had her home by four AM, refusing to break into her home to deposit her in her bed. This was the little old ladies sacred space, so instead, he knocked on the door. Ten minutes later, he waved good night to ms. Roberts as she helped her drunken grand-daughter stumble to bed. She did not look all too happy. 

Blaire had sworn up and down she’d call him when she got up, but she ought to have risen by now. So… why hadn’t she called in. Victor did not want to go roust her too just to ensure she had not died. It would make his ringing the neck of Jefferson worthless, really. 

Victor was at the home quickly and found a spot near by to park. He didn’t understand why so many complained about parking in Gotham. He was never without a parking spot. Black suit with a dark grey and silver vest, smoke colored tie, silver shirt and steel socks, he was smoke. Victor chuckled again at his own joke as he walked into the building and went straight for the stairs. Knowing full and well their elevators had camera and were floor operated, he took the stairs and left no room for anyone to question him.  
Victor was at the floor and the door in no time, and pulled out his picks that were tucked in his jacket pocket. His guns were cold in their holsters against his sides as he tried the door. Unlocked… idiot.

It wasn’t till he heard the shrill giggles of a female that he realized how much more fun this would be. Stepping inside, he locked the door behind him, his leather gloves for this were sanitized and clean of anything but their need to be wrapped around Jefferson’s throat. One gun out, he stepped across the threshold. Victor had stopped earlier to put his phone on vibrate earlier as he stepped into the house.

It was here that he liked the best. Stepping into the living room, standing still for a minute his gun aimed perfectly at the two, able to get both their heads in one shot as they were tangled by the tongues. It wasn’t till the female looked up that they went still.

“Hi.” Victor spoke with a smirk, stepping across the floor. “I think we ought to have a chat, Jefferson.” The two looked at him with obvious fear. 

It was like a fluid dance and the female broke free of the boy and tried to run. Victor didn’t even blink as he turned the gun to her, let off one warning shot, clipping her right in the shoulder, just above her arm, just left of an artery. She fell to the ground, letting out a cry of pain. “I bet a place like this…. it’s sound proof, huh? Paid the extra penny for it too.” 

“What do you want!” Jefferson cried out, unable to move, his dick now gone down completely and he was already covered in her. But now he was crawling on his back, his elbows and heels digging to pull him away from Victor.

“We need to have a talk about your manners.” Victor smirked as he knelt just before him, his gun aimed at Jefferson. In a few moments the female was tied to the bed, her arm wrapped up with her own clothes. Jefferson was pinned to the dining table, a credit card in Victor’s hand. 

“You… I remember you… you were with… with Blaire, last night.” He whined, as Victor stood. 

“Why did you call her Bunny Rabbit?” His interest was peaked as Jefferson looked up with wide eyes.

“She… she was… When we first had sex. She was in a bunny costume, and she’s always so…”

“Nice.” Victor cocked a brow at Jefferson as he narrowed his eyes.

“She’s a psycho! Bitch went biserk at our engagement party! She tell you that? She broke a plate over my head, and stabbed my best man in the hand with a drink umbrella. He had to get stitches! She’s crazy, don’t let her fool you!” Victor cocked a brow at Jefferson who was now in tears. With a smirk, he stepped back and aimed the gun right at Jefferson’s shoulder. 

“This is for Ms. Mooney and her club you stole from.” The gun went off silently as usual, Jefferson crying out as Victor stepped back, watching his handy work before he aimed the gun. “I believe Ms. Roberts made her point long ago.” 

Victor took the information he had taken from the experience and smirked as he felt a vibrate in his jacket. He closed the door behind him before he took out his phone. The picture on the front screen was the picture Blaire took at the club. She had her tongue out and a peace sign, lights flashing, making her crooked grin gleam. For a crappy phone camera, Victor believed it was a decent picture.

“Hey, Victor… sorry about… last night.” He heard over the phone as he turned towards the steps, taking them swiftly. 

“No need to apologize,” He spoke with a grin as he stepped further down the stair well. “It was equally as entertaining for me.”

~~~~ Additional Chapter~~~~~

 

“What did I tell you?” Sarah Roberts snapped as Blaire sat at their dinner table. The older lady had waited a whole day to say something. The night that Blaire came stumbling home in Victor’s arms, her grandmother helped her near lifeless body to her bed and she slept nearly the whole day. Sarah Roberts was a reserved woman, never really going out of her way or showing her emotions often. So Blaire knew she would be scolded when her grandmother was ready and had all the words correct and the tone perfected.

“Trust no one.” Blaire spoke blandly, stabbing at the chicken, biting on the soft skin and flesh. Her grandmother may have been born and raised in Gotham, but her grandmother cooked like she lived her whole life in Oklahoma. Everything was flavored with warm, hearty seasoning and good for the soul and only slightly fattening. 

Which is why Blaire jogged in the morning and did as much as she could to keep up with her new diet. No more miracle grow byproduct. Actual food, which her body was not used to yet. 

“And what else did I tell you?”

“Don’t get drunk with the neighbors?” Blaire smiled, looking up from her plate. Her grandmother narrowed her eyes, not amused and Blaire frowned, looking down again. 

“I told you to keep yourself in control.”

“It was one night, Grandma.” Blaire blurted out. “I needed it! I’ve locked myself up in here hoping the world would forget me and it did. Everyone moved on or is looking to drag me deeper through the mud. For once a guy wanted to hang out with me, for once…”

Sarah cocked a brow, only for her face to fall as she watched her grand-daughter pick at her food. “Was he atleast a gentleman?”

“Yes. He kept me from doing anything too horrid in a public place, he didn’t drink, and he took me right home. A perfect gentleman.” Blaire looked up, her eyes watery as Sarah reached over her table. She took her grand-daughters hands in hers, rubbing her thumb along the back of her hand. 

“Good. Because if I had to loose my cool on that young man I would be most upset. He’s a good neighbor.” Blaire broke into a grin as her grandmother pulled back and dipped some chicken down to Barton. Barton took it softly and his tail shook the table a bit as he munched happily on the breast of chicken he was given. 

Blaire finished her dinner and did the dishes as her grandmother cleaned off the table and took Barton to bed. Blaire stood in the living in the early evening looking to the couch. Usually she would sit there and finish another chapter of her book, but she had no want to do so. Instead, she stood there, her phone out and she unlocked her phone and looked to the screen. She had atleast four pictures on there she hadn’t before her night out with Victor Zsasz, as her grandmother had filled in his last name.

Blaire settled against the wall as she opened her photos. The first was her making a weird face into the camera up close and Victor was looking over her head with the same interested but confused face he made all night. Then there was the picture she made him take of her out drinking the navy guy. That she remembered as Victor kept making her giggle, it made shooting the liquor hard. There was one where she took a selfie in the middle of the bathroom, just to remind herself how much of a mess she was, honestly. Then there was one where she was beyond blitzed. She didn’t remember taking it, but it was the picture she used for his contact picture. He was driving, his eyes focused on the dark road and his body straight and face concentrated. But he looked… soft.

“Why do you look so pretty.” She whispered as she looked over the photo and closed out the album. Blaire had said a few things more flirty then, saying he ought to be a model if he wasn’t. Who dressed him, Armani? Did he summon Dior from the grave to design his own closet. Could she roll in his clothes just to feel nice for once. He smirked and laughed as she babbled to her home.

It was a day after waking up and realizing that she maybe ought not to do that again. She didn’t even know him that well. It was Gotham… he could have killed her! Forced her into drugs, or worse than that. What had she been thinking?

But then she called him like he asked and she felt at ease. He was just as smooth and softly worded over the phone as he was in person. It was a short conversation, but it was enough.

So when she saw the lights go off in his driveway, she walked to her front door. Poking her head out onto the porch, making an excuse to come out and see him. She collected the pitcher and glass her grandmother used and looked up. There he was, climbing out of his car, two females close behind him. Blaire blushed and ducked to look away when a voice called out to her.

“Hey Blaire.” She stopped and turned, the two girls were smiling and waving. Eyes opened wide and mouth open, she didn’t know what to say, except…

“Hi….” she squeaked, blinking and setting the things down. 

“You look nice,” They waved as they walked towards the door and Blaire was stood absolutely still. Her mind went blank as she looked to her clothes then up to the scene before her. Noticing that she missed Victor’s movements, but when she came back from her confused brain fart, she found he was at her driveway.

Blaire didn’t stop her feet as she bound down the stairs lightly and stood at the middle of her driveway. 

“Hi.” She whispered, looking up at him. The bemused look in his eyes filled her with a joy she didn’t think was possible. 

“They ask about you.” He whispered, nodding toward his home as if she were to ask who he was talking about.

“How did… do they?” She blurted out, her mouth unable to complete sentences as he shrugged.

“I did not do it.” He stated. “I think they saw you peeking out windows, or jogging in the morning. I simple told them your name.”

Blaire smiled softly, before she leaned lightly to look to his yard. The females in question were standing at the door, eyeing the two of them. Victor turned to see them, and they grinned largely as they slowly crept into his home. 

“So… am I allowed to ask a personal question?” She grimaced before looking up to him.

“I believe you are allowed to.” He snarked with a smirk. Blaire eyed him teasingly before she crossed her arms and looked to him. As if she were playing with the question in her head. Did she really want to know? Or was she sure she didn’t need to know if he was sleeping with those girls in an incredibly kinky fashion. They had worn collars and leashes, this time they both wore fashion with chains integrated on it, she was sure the darker one wore hand-cuffs as bracelets that weren’t connected and the other had a choker on with strings. From what she could see atleast, and it was actually kind of dark. Maybe she was hallucinating. 

“Are they your family?” She ended up deciding on as he smirked.

“No, they’re not family.” He answered with a smirk. “I have no family here.” 

“Oh…” She trailed off, eyeing him. She could see, almost taste that he would be that kind of freak. The kind of man who would do freaky things in his room, full on leather outfit, dominating the females on his leashes. Or maybe he liked them to whip out dominatrix on him. 

“I was told the most interesting thing by someone I met in town yesterday.” Victor spoke with a knowing smile and Blaire was thrown off as she met his eyes. “You’re well known for a certain bunny costume.”

Blaire’s mouth fell open as he looked over her face, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes scaled her from her head to her toes. Then when his eyes came back up, he placed two fingers under her chin and closed her mouth softly.   
“You should wear it some time.” He winked as he turned and walked, proud of himself. 

“Victor!” She called out and he turned at the end of her drive way, catching her eye. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear about me…” he said nothing as he winked again and walked across his road. Was he teasing her for her known sexual exploits? Or did he really… he couldn’t have asked or talked to Jefferson. He wouldn’t do that to her… would he?

He didn’t owe her anything. He barely knew her. So why did it feel like a flustering betrayal of trust that he talked to Jefferson. She had no proof that he did but that had to be it. There’s no other reason for him to be so smug. 

Maybe Jefferson ran into him, her ex had seen them walk into that club together, people had seen them that night. Oh it would be just like Jefferson to say horrible things about her! That pond scum would say stuff. Victor was probably just teasing. He was always teasing, but he never meant any harm… that she knew of.


	6. Cut the society chord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaire shows up early on Victor's door step demanding answers... and coffee

Chapter six: Cut the society chord

 

Victor woke up suddenly at the sound of hands banging on his door. His sleep had been short but he actually wanted to finish the dream, it was soft and floaty, nothing specific. Just restful. His teeth clenched, he stood up in his boxers, padding right to the front door, blade in hand. Falcone liked guns, said they were easier, hard to trace. Victor like blades, they were more majestic, sprayed more, brought out more pleasure. So on specific hit jobs, he used guns to finish the job. On more torturous, personal jobs, his blades were there at his side.

Victor however, didn’t have to use the blades, he opened the door to the sunrise and… Blaire Roberts.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!” She near screeched, eyes wide and panting. She was in what he presumed were her pajamas, as she was wearing fuzzy shorts and matching colorful tank-top with a fuzzy heart on it. 

“Volume.” He moaned lightly, rubbing his ears. He had stashed his blade in the cup on the side table as he looked to her. His alarm was not set to go off for another 27 minutes. Could she not have waited till he received his allotted sleep? Rubbing his face now to wake himself up, he could have strangled her as she stepped up into his door frame and forced him to stand in front of her, bare but for his boxers. Which, as entertaining as it was, had no effect on her anger.

“What. Did. You. Do.” She hissed lowly, her teeth gritted and jaw locked. “I was called by the police to come down and testify! Jefferson was shot!” 

Victor was actually surprized they would call her. “Did they think you shot him?”

“You’ve avoiding the question. But yes, they think I did it! There isn’t any evidence, which is why they didn’t come and personally take me in.” She huffed, hands on her exposed hips and looking up to him. Her hair was a mess and he wanted to pull her inside to brush it. Actually, she was a complete mess. Victor noticed her shorts tettering left on her hips, her left sock was pink and right was black, she was not even showered, and she was obviously just risen from the bed.

“Do you think I shot your ex?” Victor shot back lowly, his irritation level scaled up just a bit higher than usual.

“I don’t know!” She huffed, her voice never going up in volume but she was obviously about to become hysterical. “You say something incredibly… personal to me, something only Jefferson would say. Then he turns up in the hospital shot, cursing my name, saying my ‘Psycho boyfriend’ shot him and his new fiance. He has a fiance again, Victor! It’s been… not even a month! He’s already shacking up with some other … wait, no! I’m mad at you right now!” 

Victor’s irritation fell flat as she tried to keep herself on track, the way she babbled and talked with her hands only made him smile. Was it possible to meet someone who never really made you angry? Victor looked to her phone, seeing the clock ticking. It was 9:34 in the morning, they had been talking exactly five minutes and this was going no where. Well, he was going no where, he was still in his underwear. Victor would have laughed at his own internal monologue if Blaire wouldn’t have accosted him for laughing at her. 

“Come in, I’ll make some coffee.” He motioned for her to walk in. She hesitated, but followed him as he closed the door behind her then cocking a brow down at her. “And if you remember, you asked me something equally as personal.”

Blaire pursed her lips, eyes narrowed at him. “I…” Victor smirked as he walked past her towards the kitchen. He sat two cups out, measured out coffee beans, pressed them and poured in the grounds, turning to see the female at his kitchen bar, eyes taking in the whole room.

“Or were you not going to ask if I was having sex with the two girls?” Victor asked out of the thin air, watching her jump in her skin then whirl to him. It had been three minutes and 40 seconds since she trailed off, she had a look on her face like she hadn’t expected him to continue.

“But I didn’t.” She defended. 

“I’m not.” He answered. He liked the way her eyes softened and her cheeks went red. “They’re not family, they’re co-workers.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but he liked the look on her face as she mulled that over her brain. Granted Bean liked to be dramatic when they came over for his sessions, and Cho was one to accessorize. 

“Oh,” He grinned more as she went quiet. “I like your boxers, silk fits you… armani.” She teased with a soft smile. Victor brought himself to the other end of the bar, folding his hands on the bar. 

“Your… clothing is interesting, as well.” He looked down to her tank-top then back up to her. “Still no Bunny costume.”

Blaire groaned and hung her head, running her hands through her mess of a mop on her head. He saw the hilt of the blade in the front of his house and thought of going to move it, but that would only bring her attention to it. Instead, he stood silently, looking down at her as she finally looked up from her hands.

“Did you shoot him or not?” Blaire asked, looking him in the eyes. Now, he could answer her truthfully, no hesitation and feel bad for a moment after she ran screaming. Or he could lie and risk her finding out the hard way. 

“Depends.” He grabbed the mugs and stood up straight. “Do you consider me your… what did he call me? Your psycho boyfriend?” Victor chuckled to himself.

He was pouring the coffee, allowing her to leave. To be the smart one and leave his home. Never come back, forget this ever happened, act alike her grandmother. Sweet but distant, never intermingling with him. It would be better if she did, if she didn’t say a word and just left. But his skin ran cold and his muscles tightened as he felt finger tips running up his spine. A gasp for air broke his lips as he could feel her warmth behind him. It tickled the skin on the underside of his thighs. Her fingers trailed up his back then down his arms. It was then that he realized what she had been able to see this whole time but he never realized. His arm.

“I can’t call you my boyfriend… you never properly asked me… you don’t even text me.” She whispered against his back, her fingers running over his scars. “and I’m a lady of honor, I am a Roberts after all.”

He turned just enough to see her over his shoulder as her eyes looked up at him. “What happened at your engagement party?” He asked. Blaire looked up at him with those crystal eyes as she smiled softly. Even now he couldn’t believe the things that Jefferson said. 

“I’ll tell you when you tell me what you did saturday afternoon.” She whispered. Victor opened his mouth for a moment, to speak. But then Queen came blaring out of his bedroom, ‘I want to break free’ blasting off his phone. Blaire took one of the cups that he had poured coffee into and brought it with her. “A different time, then.”

Victor liked the sparkle in her eyes as she walked to his bar once more and sat down. He walked towards his room and snatched up his phone. Clicking the alarm off, he decided to pull on a shirt and a pair of pajama pants. When he returned she was on her phone, sipping her coffee.

“When do you have to go down?”

“They asked me to show up between 10 and 11.” She grumbled, sipping her coffee more. He joined her on the barstool as he noticed her coffee turned from pitch black to light with obvious scents of sugar in it, even vanilla. She had flavored it. 

Victor took a sip of his pitch black coffee and peered over her shoulder at her phone. She was flipping through instagram. Of Jeffersons, with an equal scowl.

“What are you going to do?” Victor asked softly as she closed it out and locked her phone, scooting it away from her.

“What I always do, shower off the crazy, put on some mascara, and pretend like I have no idea what they’re saying or doing. Really,” She answered and looked up at him.

“Do you want me to go with? I could play the part well… I’ve been known to pull off the psycho Boyfriend look quite well.” Victor took a sip of his coffee as she smiled. She leaned his way, even lay her head on his shoulder. She was warm and soft as she closed her eyes and sighed. Victor could smell hints of rosemary and mint in her hair from washing it before, and he could smell her warm skin. Even dirty she smelt like warm cooking. Obviously Ms. Robert’s doing, that woman’s house always gave off the scent of home cooked meals and sweet tea.

“It couldn’t hurt.” She whispered. “Plus, I don’t exactly have a ride into town just yet.”

“Go shower, I’ll call you when I’m dressed.” And she took her last sips of coffee, placing her cup in the sink. It was when she rounded the corner of the bar and wrapped her arms around him that he truly realized what he had offered. Because she nuzzled her face in his neck and inhaled deeply. He felt the cold chill of her nose inhaling, then the contrasting warm air as she breathed out. 

“You still haven’t asked me.” She chuckled as she pulled back. 

“You still owe me a book series written by a british lady.” He retorted back and watched as she happily smiled. 

“A please would suffice.” her tease was light as she took up her phone and backed out slowly, not turning from him just yet. 

“Ditto.” Her smile was bright as she nipped her lower lip and whirled around, walking to his door and leaving without so much as looking to the hilt of the knife near the door. Victor smirked as he took another sip of his coffee. He would be able to be dressed and ready in 10 minutes, 2 minutes to finish his coffee and eat something, and one minute to grab his keys and everything he needed.

That imbecile was not going to blame this on his ray of sunshine… Victor chuckled lightly as he took another sip. His… He didn’t know if Blaire would consider herself his ball of sunshine, but as long as he did, that’s all that mattered. And Victor Zsasz took pride in his things, and took care of his things.

Victor Zsasz would take care of Blaire Roberts.


	7. The demons in the light of day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaire is at the station only to run into an old friend. Someone she's avoided because of their connection. Jim Gordon knows that something is wrong, and he's going to make her talk about it.

Chapter seven: The demons in the light of day

Blaire was sat in an interrogation room for what felt like six hours. Nothing was happening and she had already tapped all the music she could into the table, counted every ceiling tile, and lay her head on the table, but fidget uncomfortably till she couldn’t stand it any more. She knew reasonably it was only about … maybe… possibly 30 minutes. But she didn’t was not good to sit in a cage for long. 

Only, it was when the door opened and a pale man walked in that she was confused.

“Victor?” She asked as he put his hand out to her.

“Come with me if you want to live.” He snickered, walking towards her. Blaire took his hand and stood up. He wore one of his darker suits, leather gloves, and for a moment there she was afraid of what was beneath his jacket. But as she walked through the halls and towards the exit, no one said a thing. No one looked at them, or even raised a hair. 

“I haven’t been interviewed.” Blaire whispered to him as she looked around the station, then up to Victor. For the third time, she was actually afraid of what Victor was. There was, however, one cop who stood at the front of the precinct and Blaire halted completely, her heart skipping a beat.

“Blaire Roberts?”

“Jim Gordon.” She groaned, flinching as she moved away from Victor, weaving through the crowd. If she didn’t atleast go hug him and pretend she was happy to see an old face, her Grandmother would give her an ear full. Thankfully, Victor seemed to blend into the background and she was free to get to Jim without having her ‘psycho boyfriend’ stereotype on her arm. 

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages.” He grinned and seemed to throw arms around Blaire, not noticing her own uncomfortableness. She patted his back and stepped back.

“I’m fine.”

“Well… how is Jefferson? Is he still deciding on a ring for you?” Jim asked, wide grin and puppy dog face, the Jim Gordon she knew. But it was when Blaire looked up at him with a frown and sad eyes that he turned to a stone faced, confused detective.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. 

“Jefferson and I have called it off.” She sighed. “It was… nice to see you again, Jim.” She whispered with a lack of actual oxygen. 

“Whoa, wait. I haven’t seen you since I returned to the city and you just lay that on me? I’ve known you since we were in diapers… Blaire, you’ve never been this… bland.” He put his hands on her shoulders and she sagged in his soft grasp. “Come on Bunny, tell me what’s wrong.”

Blaire felt Victor’s on her physically scan her. Anyone who was within punching distance heard Jim, and suddenly she hated having friendship with people like Jim. People who believed in the world as black and white, who were all about the good in people. Blaire liked to live in the light and sunlight, but her heart as of late had been in the depth of an abyss. Being around Jim only reminded her how unhappy and how she didn’t have anything she had wanted. 

“We were at the engagement party, and he… well… he was trying…” She inhaled slowly, her voice tight. She hadn’t said the awful words outloud. “His best man was there at the party, they were both drunk. Elijah pinned me to the ballroom wall and asked if he could… if they could… share.” 

Jim’s eyes went wide as the memory of the night filled her brain. There was more to it than that. The reason Blaire considered it her mental break down, the reason she did all the awful things she did. It was coming up like vomit in her soul and she was heaving for a moment as she stepped back. Only, Jim stepped closer and took up her hands. 

“Bunny… I’m so sorry.” He whispered softly as he eyed her, then pulled her in for a hug. Just as he hugged her, she broke into tears and sobs into his pressed shirt. All those memories of hugs and laughs, that one time in elementary school where she thought Jim and her would marry, then going into boarding school certain she could never marry him. 

Blaire let out a gasp as she clung to him, yanking him close to her. Then just as soon as she let him in, she let him go and took a deep breath. “Is your number still the same?” She dabbed her eyes, straightened up and fixed her hair. 

“Yes.” Jim nodded and Blaire smiled. A real smile. 

“I missed you, a little while you were gone.” It was true they had become distant thanks to his going to war and her becoming a professional socialite. But their roots were the same.

“I missed you too… you’re the only one who likes me anymore.” Blaire grinned as she passed him, dabbing her face more and pulling herself back together. 

“It’s because you’re a butthead, Jim Gordon.” She heard his cackle as she walked out the front doors and down the steps. She saw Victor’s car revved and running, ready to go there in the waiting zone. She walked straight into it, slipped down into the seat, pulling the belts tight against her. It was as he eased into traffic and floored it back home that she broke down. Victor was ever silent as she heaved and cried out harder and harder. 

Victor’s hand was on her thigh, low and on her knee, rubbing soothing circles over her cap as he sped down the road. 

“Do you want to go home?” He spoke.

“No.” She blurted out, blubbering into her hand.

“Do you want to come to my home?” He added.

“No.” She inhaled slowly as she let down her hands. 

He said nothing else as he whirled the vehicle from it’s path and instead merged onto the highway. Blaire took deep breaths as he sped down the lanes, swerved through traffic. Blaire saw two highway patrolmen but they didn’t even flash lights. Victor was obviously breaking the law, he was atleast 30 over at all times. 

“Victor.” Blaire sniffed as she looked to the hand that still nursed her knee softly. “How did you get me out of lock up?” She asked.

“Why does Jim Gordon call you Bunny?”

Blaire worried this would be their thing. Never telling the truth because the other didn’t want to fess up. But Blaire would not be persuaded to drop it like she did this morning. He might have shot Jefferson, he might not have. He might be an under-cover cop, he might not be. She didn’t even know what job he had, and why he worked the world's weirdest hours and wore expensive clothes to said job. 

“We were friends when we were little. Jefferson calls me Bunny because everyone calls me Bunny, because Jim. I had this… this stupid stuffed animal and because my name was Blaire, he used to call me Bunny Blaire, it just shortened to Bunny. I called him Jumbo Jimbo because he was always twice my height.” Blaire wiped her face and cleared the snot from her face. His thumb never stopped tracing circles on her skin. “Jefferson only calls me Bunny Rabbit because I wore that… ridiculous costume on halloween our first year dating. He and I slept together and he made me keep the corset and all of it on while he had sex with me on his bedroom floor. I began to hate it, because it was my innocent childhood name that he turned into something dirty. He would whisper it in my ear while he was rutting against me often, and he would make references to me being a playboy bunny sometimes…” The words just didn’t stop.

But the car eased into a spot and the car stopped. Victor turned and opened his door, leaving his soft touch on her skin as he walked around and opened her door. Blaire exited and dropped her feet onto the sand beneath them. It was… a park? A playground, abandoned and empty, but the middle of the day and the large oak trees made it glow in the best way. Blaire’s heart stopped as Victor shut the door behind her and looked down at her.   
“The detective on Jefferson’s case owe me a few favors. I forced them to rethink letting him pin it on you. I did nothing violent, just… used my contacts in order to get your name off the case completely. No one is going to associate you two together any more, not even him.” Victor answered, as he motioned for her to follow him. It was quiet for a moment but Blaire needed it. The sun was warm on her skin and it brought life back to her skin. She closed her eyes and spread her arms. The whole place was silent except for nature and her own breathing. 

When she opened her eyes and looked to Victor, he was tucked on a near by swing and she smiled smally. Followed him to the swings and sank onto it, letting her legs stretch out as they swung in equal quiet. It felt like an eternity, letting the air fall over her skin and her legs kicked out to swing. A beautiful eternity. 

“I’m sorry, I accused you of hurting him.” Blaire looked over to the pale man and smiled. Victor looked up at her and his lips did that twitch of a smile once more.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve been accused of.” He retorted with a gleam in his eye. 

“Thank you for listening.” Blaire confessed, “For always listening.” Victor stood up as he stopped her swing. He was there, just above her, looking down at her. His hands held the chains as he slowly closed in their space. His hands slid down the chains till they grazed over her fingers and tugged her up onto her feet. Blaire was inches from his face, her hands and his intertwined, fingers gripped each other. She hadn’t realized she wasn’t breathing till his lips brushed over hers with that same knowing smirk. He was stealing her breath and they weren’t even kissing. He lifted her hands to his shoulders, one hand wrapped around her hips while the other left a trail of goosebumps down her arm and across her throat.

“I’ve decided that-” Funky town broke into their world suddenly and Blaire was gasping for air as he pulled back and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He chose NOW to pick up his phone. He stared her right in the eye, stone cold and focused as he put the phone to his ear. His eyes looked to Blaire’s lips before he looked away completely.

“I will be there-” He was obviously cut off and he sighed. “What a Shame.” He spoke as he flicked his phone shut.

“What?” Blaire blinked, shaking her head a bit to escape the clouds she was stuck in. 

“I must take you home, now” He pulled back completely and turned. A groan fell from Blaire’s lips and she rubbed her face as he walked from her, and she couldn’t help but let the tingles come back to mind. How his breath felt on her face. What did he decide? That he was going to kiss her? He better be… 

What was she thinking. Blaire rushed to follow him to the car, afraid he might leave her in his rush. Everything was so raw and fresh, she didn’t even know what was going on. Was she thinking of kissing him? Hadn’t she just told herself she wanted nothing to do with love? No, she wanted nothing to do with Jefferson…

Blaire still wanted someone to love her.

 

Blaire sent a text to Jim as Victor drove possibly twice as fast than when they went to the park. If it was possible. She received a text back within a few minutes. She had asked him if he wouldn’t mind coming over for dinner tomorrow. He said yes, of course.

Blaire however, wanted something else for dinner. RIght now all she could think of was a slice of Victor pie. Blaire mentally groaned at herself as she looked to his hand. It was back to where it was when they got there, on her knee. 

She wanted to ask what he decided, but she stayed quiet even after he had dropped her off and she clambered inside. “Where have you been off to?” Her grandmother chuckled as she climbed up the driveway.

“Jefferson tried to blame me for something.” Blaire shrugged as she slipped into one of the chairs on the porch. “I convinced Victor to stand behind me and look scary while I talked to the police.”

Sarah Roberts looked to her Grand daughter then shook her head. She left it at that.


	8. Bullets fired are bullets swallowed

Chapter eight: Bullets fired are bullets swallowed

Barbara Kean sat in the chair, squirming in her silence as Victor counted the flinches every time their eyes met. What bad luck, he guessed. His arm burned a bit, but nothing too bad. It was a burn he was willing to live with, it was his payment. Liza was walking around the kitchen, curling away from him everytime she had to pass him. Victor just enjoyed watching her cringe when he spoke to her. She always seemed so unsettled by him, it was fun.

But Barbara Kean was rattled and when he turned to look at her again, he smirked. 34. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, looking to the picture. Blaire, she sent a text. He pocketed it again.

“Avoiding someone?” Barbara spoke up, shaky in voice and in her chair. 

“Waiting, more like it.” He smirked at her. The timer in the kitchen went off and Victor looked to Liza. She turned off the timer and pulled the oven open. Fresh muffins filled the air and Victor inhaled deeply. 

“Those muffins smell good.” He looked at Liza who glared back.

“None for you.” She huffed, “Creep,” she finished as much under her breath as she could. Victor watched her walk the pan around the bar and towards the other side. Since Falcone put her on his payroll, Victor had eaten more baked goods than he should. 32 muffins in the last month, 12 oatmeal cookies, 4 cupcakes, and two slices of pie. Victor cocked a brow at the females who seemed to respond to each other. 

35, Barbara shot her eyes down as he caught her look. Then his phone buzzed, the sounds of funky town playing in his ear. Falcone. He pulled it out, keeping his eyes on the female as he pulled the phone up to his ear.

“Jim Gordon is here.” The voice on the other side was direct and to the point, as always. 

“Got it.” He replied as he pulled the phone away from his ear. Flipping it shut, the other line long dead, he cocked a brow up at Barbara, tucking his phone away. Her idiot fiance was here… “What a shame.”

Victor wanted to like Jim Gordon, because he was a good man. Falcone spoke highly of him, Blaire was childhood friends with him, the man stood up for what was right. Victor appreciated that, but he made his job difficult. Chasing the man through all of Gotham made it hard to operate. Plus, Victor hadn’t exactly wanted to be called in for work yesterday. 

The way Barbara and Liza shyed from him was a bonus. But Victor loved his job, and it was his world. Organized and controlled by his actions. Victor stood Barbara up and walked her from the room. Jim sat on the couch next to a fuzzier man, and Victor helped Barbara sit down roughly on the couch with them. His eyes met Jim’s, but he wanted to say so much more without speaking. Mostly he just wanted to laugh. No real reason, just chuckle as he backed out of the room dramatically. But he stood still and waited for his orders.

By rights he should die. By the rules, all of them should have to die, and finally, Victor was going to get some of this frustration out. The last two days have been nothing but head ache. First Jim didn’t cooperate, then Falcone had him babysit the scared one, only let him rough her up a little bit. He was not being paid for all his talents. Finally, he could get his sanity back.

“Go on, leave before I change my mind.” Victor’s face fell.

“Wait a minute…” 

“Hush you.” And he was silenced. Rage filled his bones as Falcone waved him off, and walked to the kitchen. What! Victor scowled as he stalked after his boss.

“Don Falcone.” Victor huffed.

“Victor, go home, I don’t need you tonight.” Falcone spoke shortly and the bald man went silently ballistic. He needed… he needed….

“Boss, you want us to come home with you?” Bean asked from the room behind him, not sure how to approach him. 

“No, I have a specific… person for tonight.” He whirled around and pulled out his phone. Opening his phone, Blaire’s text was still there. 

‘Gordon didn’t show =(‘ 

Victor smirked as he dialed her number, his feet taking him across the compound. Blaire picked up on the second ring, the sounds of soft radio in the background. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Victor asked softly as he opened the front door and stormed towards his car. There was shuffling on the other end of the phone, his keys out of his pocket. His suspenders flicked against his wrist as he unlocked his car. 

“Nothing, now.” She pouted on her end of the phone.

“Can I make it up for him?” Victor licked his lips as he checked his mirrors then crept the car forward. It’s purr was soft, but the rocks underneath crackled as he turned his radio down to nothing. His lungs were restricted. He needed something to devour, and if he couldn’t murder Jim Gordon and Barbara Kean, then he’d get release somehow.   
“Why would you want to do that?” She laughed, her voice made Victor grip the wheel harder and press down on his pedal more. He needed to get home… now.

“Because we never got to finish the other day.” He smirked as he could hear the hitch in her breath. “And that way you’re not angry at him, and … well… I get apologize to you.”

He could hear her breathing slow against the mouth piece. “I… well… I could be persuaded to take your apology.” Victor smirked as he roared his engine and nearly took to the air as he took to the highway. The clock light was bright green against his dash, the sun barely setting behind him.

“I’ll be there in 30 minutes.” He spoke and closed the phone. The drive was fast enough. Police never pulled over his car anymore, not after Falcone put out a word for three cars that were never to be pulled over. Victor’s was one. Angry at Falcone, yes he was, but starving he was more. The man had deprived him of something he was salivating over. The control, the order. You broke the rules, you were punished. Jim Gordon should have died.

Blaire would have been sad. 

Victor licked his lips again as his eyes flicked to the mirror. He’d have to apologize to her for that too, if it ever came to that. His lips twitched upwards as ideas crossed his mind. His legs were strained, his pant leg was becoming tense with his need. Blood could take a back seat if Blaire was perfectly fine with going full throttle tonight. That joke would have been funnier in his head if he hadn’t slowed down just enough to make it into the neighborhood. Blaire was just walking up his drive-way and Victor barely had time to turn off the vehicle. 

He didn’t remember putting it in park, but he knew he had. His whole vehicle was put in order in the three seconds it took him to decide he was too impatient for her mouth. Blaire was in a pair of jean shorts and a black tank-top with silver spots on it. Though, Victor could care less what she wore. If she was accepting of his appetite, she would not be wearing it for long.

He marched right up to her, snatching her up by the hips as if she weighed nothing and drove her and him up against his garage door. Be damned if the little old lady was looking. Blaire’s eyes were wide, but he could feel her heart beat as he pinned her to the cool aluminum garage doors and brought their lips together. He wrapped her legs around him like a belt as his gloved hands tangled her hair and drove her harder up against the doors.

Blaire let out a gasp as his lips nearly ate her whole. “Wha-wha-what did you decide.” She whimpered as his lips broke from from hers and peppered her face in them.

“That you would look best naked and against my bed.” He growled, tugging at her hair, exposing her throat to him. Her legs tightened against him, pulling his hips in closer, her fingers clawed into his back.  
“Was that really it?” She asked as Victor found her lips again. Clumsy and desperate for kisses, he took over her mouth. 

“No.” He confessed, his teeth dragging across her lower lip. “But I’ll tell you tomorrow. Even if you say no tonight.” He had to add on that last part for her. He wanted it, he wanted her. He wanted to spread her wide and taste every inch of her. Victor Zsasz would eat her alive if she allowed him. Only if she allowed him, because he was going to protect this bundle of sunshine. Even if it killed him… or gave him blue-balls.

“Who! in their right mind!” She gasped as she pulled his face in with her palms, cupping his cheeks, “Would say no. I just ask… you don’t undress me outside.”

Victor’s nose flared as he yanked her legs off his hips and flipped her so she was a sack over his shoulder in a swift movement. Her giggle of surprize was loud and adorable as he held her tightly and walked to his front door. “Deal.”

The door was nearly closed when he shoved her up against it roughly. Victor didn’t even have to yank her clothes, Blaire did it herself. She ripped the tank-top off her shoulders only to yank him back up against her. Victor counted three hearts on her right bra cup before she ground against him and distracted his eyes. She smelt like rosemary and mint, but she also smelt like romantic roses and a fresh shower. He tugged his fingers out of his gloves and tucked them onto the table near the door.

Blaire’s lips were on his, a growl escaped him as she yanked his jacket off him. He took it back and hung it up on the rack, only to wrap his arms around her waist. Fingers seared against flesh as she broke to kiss along his jaw line.

“I thought you were a respectable girl?” He teased as he felt one of her hands groping at his already hard cock.

“Respectable, not celibate.” She laughed as she whirled him around so his back was against the door. Her hands stripped him of his shirt, taking a cue from him and hanging it as best she could on the coat rack. “Now, where’s your bed. I’m not freezing my nipples against your front door, and you’re not fucking a respectable girl like me on the couch.” 

Victor’s mouth was open, unsure how to speak for a moment. But he was not without movement as he snatched her up by the hips, lifting her up and carrying her towards his room. It was only a few moments before he had her in there with the door kicked closed and he set her back down. Blaire smiled at him, running her hands across his head and down the back of his neck. Then she raked her nails down his back, her knees growing weak as Victor pressed heavy kisses down her throat. 

His hands found work in unbuttoning her pants. 

“I’m going to throw you on this bed quickly, and I’m going to devour you.” He murmured as he knelt down before her, his lips ghosting over her stomach. 

“Oh, so you’re a cannibal now?” She teased. A swat to her rear brought out more giggles as he yanked her jean shorts down and off her ankles. He kissed her hip bones, butterfly kisses down her hip and to her legs.

“For the time being.” He smirked as he bit her flesh affectionately before looking up at her. “Yes… how fond are you of these panties?”

Blaire didn’t answer fast enough and he snatched his switch blade from his pants, he didn’t wait for her. He cut them off her fast and the gasp that fell from her mouth as the cool of his blade tickled her skin. The flat end was pressed against her slit as he kissed her hip again. He ran the blade along her entrance, liking the way it glistened against her skin. Victor let his eyes catch hers as he brought the blade to his lips. His tongue swiped along the flat end, grinning as he tasted her on the blade.

“You are a freak.” She blurted out and for a moment the whole world was still. Victor watched her mouth turn into a soft smile. “I don’t have experience in it...but I bet that doesn’t concern you at all, huh?”

He dropped the blade, grabbing her by the thighs and standing her up. He tossed her on the bed, smirking as she let out another shrill giggle, scrambling to fix herself. She even flung off her bra, looking at him dead in the eye and nibbling her lower lip. Then she raised her head, her elbows supporting her so she could look at him, her finger beckoned him and he didn’t have to be told twice.

Victor crawled across the bed, towering over her as he took over her lips again. He was desperate for her lips as she spread her legs, brought him in close and closed her hands around him. “You like to experiment?” He smirked against her lips as he pulled back, pressing kisses to her jaw again. He trailed nips and kissed to her collar bone. His left hand held him up, but his other hand felt free to finally pay attention to her nipples.

“I like to think of mah…” She gasped as he pinched her already hard and pink nipple, her hips bucked up. “myself as open minded.” She looked to him with a smile, full of lust and eyes clouded and dark. Victor said no more as he kissed down to the unabused nipple, taking it in his mouth. Her hips bucked again and he was unable not to grind into her. 

He could feel her wetness on his suit pants and he was more than happy to take care of that as well. Victor crawled down, his kisses more demanding and harsh, relishing in her gasps, the way her fingers dug into his skin and her clean nails left trails in their wake. His mouth didn’t tease or play around, he intended to eat her alive.   
“VICTOR!” She cried out as his tongue swiped along her, taking it’s time to find her clit and swipe it too. His left hand held her wild hips down, his right gripped her cheeks harshly and his tongue buried itself again, tasting her and watching her whimper. His eyes would move up to see her flung back against the bed with a smirk on his face. 

“Are you alright… Blaire?” He teased, the hand that had been gripping her cheeks moved. He could see her twitch to say something, but his fingers dove inside her the very moment he thought she’d talk and she cried out. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“FUCK… yes…”


	9. Comparisons of Humanity

Chapter nine: Comparisons of humanity.

Blaire hadn’t realized how long Victor was between her legs, but when he finally came up for air, she was weak. She couldn’t move, only gasp for air and lay there like a lump of flesh. Victor looked more than smug as he crawled up over her, his eyes gleaming as he looked over her face. Blaire couldn’t help but break out in a giant grin and playfully wipe his face off. 

“Did you get enough to eat?” She giggled as he laughed, yanking her by the back of her head into his lips. “Ewww! Girl cooties!” She let out more giggles.

Victor chuckled as he peppered her face with kisses. The almost animalistic way he attacked her earlier seemed to seep away as she wrapped her limp arms around him. He took her lips again but Blaire grinned and moaned as he was slow and sloppy against her mouth. 

“I apologize.” Victor whispered against her lips. “For the blade.” He looked down her body.

“Don’t be.” She let two fingers push his chin up to meet her eyes. “I said I was open to everything. I’m … I’m not much for pain myself, but I’ll try just about anything once. Especially if you look at me the way you just did.” Blaire watched his eyes. They searched her face, they were dark and blown with lust, but she saw something in them. Another gleam aside the lust that she liked. Maybe Victor Zsasz wasn’t so scary. Or maybe he was. 

“I would never carve you.” He breathed as he looked her in the eye and suddenly, that animal was back. Giddy with lust and need, Blaire squirmed under him as his hands undid his pants. She held still, not sure what to say or do with him as he pulled back and pulled them down. Her hands moved to touch him, but his hands snatched her hands. Victor pulled her up off the bed harsh by the wrist and devoured her mouth. His hands let go of her just long enough to whip his belt off and shove both his pants and boxers to the floor. Blaire hummed against his lips with hunger. 

Victor didn’t make her wait long, hoisting her up by her hips, pinning her back against one of the large wooden poles of his bed. He had two boards, and four posters, and a dark canopy over his bed. His head board had slates that Blaire could only imagine what they’re for. Blaire could only fantasize what he might ask of her with those head boards. Jefferson had been a selfish lover. Blaire didn’t get to branch out and his idea of branching out was sad. 

Victor gripped her hair, pulling her in, keeping her focused on the world before her. No need to drift off and imagine another person or situation. The room was hot and stealing her air as he wrapped her legs around him and without warning he was in her. Long since being warmed up, it was heaven. No awkward situating, trying to cover up lack of attraction. She’d soak him for days if she had the chance.

“Fuck.” She murmured.

“Potty mouth.” Victor growled against her lips and she grinned.

“You like it.” Her tease was appreciated as he met her words with another thrust. His hips broke against hers. It was heaven. Blaire was moaning without realizing. They had open mouth kisses as she gasped and moaned with his thrusts. They grew rougher and more desperate as he pulled her flesh up against him.

“I do believe… I’m supposed to be making something up to you.” Victor smirked. “Do you forgive your friend?”

Blaire let out a laugh as she opened her eyes she hadn’t realized she had shut to look him in the eye. 

“I don’t know, would you stop if I said yes.” She cocked a brow as he pulled out and she pouted. Only for him to drop to the bed and pull her with him. In a mess of limbs and bodily fluids, suddenly she was on him and he was setting the pace, her hands on his chest. His hands dug into her hips, rocking her body against his.

“Never.” He blurted as she leaned down and kissed him. His lips were irresistible, and the way he moaned into her kiss was more than addicting. Blaire flicked her hips and suddenly her insides tightened again. His cock touched her spot and she was unable to stop it.

“Victor.” She whimpered as he bucked into her, riding her orgasm out with her. Her whole body was weak and her legs shook as he helped her sit up straight. Only for him to sit up to. He shoved his back up against the head board, her still wrapped around him, their bodies so much closer. The sharp, slow thrusts were twice as intense. 

Blaire was breathless as he watched her face, trailing his eyes down to where their hips met. The air was thick, but the way he breathed in her air, their lips brushing but never kissing, it left her on a whole other level. It was a few minutes before Victor flinched. “Fuck.” He yanked out of her fast and brought her close, his cock between them. She felt him spurt against her stomach as her arms were wrapped around him. Unable to truly move as his hips bucked in broken patterns against her. 

“I’m… I apologize.” He murmured, his lungs restricted and arms tight around her. “I am much better about condoms usually.”

Blaire’s eyes opened wide, her mouth opened to say something, but only let out a soft chuckle as her hands flew to his cheeks. She cupped his face and pulled him in for another sloppy kiss. “You’re forgiven… if you help me wash it off.” 

“Deal.” He smirked as she clambered off him and looked down at herself. It hadn’t been as bad when she was in it, but now she saw the bite marks. The bruises! Her mouth fell open. Victor watched her with a sense of worry before she shrugged and turned around. Blaire wasn’t as worried about the bruises and bites she could cover. It was the ones she couldn’t that her grand mother might worry over. 

She was taking inventory silently as she rounded what looked like the bathroom door and was rewarded with a basic, but classy bathroom. Same as her Grandmothers. She remembered taking bubble baths in her grandmother’s bath as a small child. The mirror was bigger, and there weren’t fake sea-shells on the counter. 

“So…” Victor eyed her up and down.

“So…?” Blaire chuckled, looking up with curiosity as she flicked on the shower head.

“Are you… you’re quiet. I’m not used to your silence.” He shuffled in, eyeing her. Blaire felt her lips twitch up in a smirk as she stepped into the water. She said nothing. Victor narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” She fluttered her lashes as she stepped back into the stream more, dunking her head back.

“That.” Victor stepped in as well, taking her by the hips and sliding her up against him.

“What’s that?” She was nearly busting with giggles she was trying to suppress as he grinned. Victor took her mouth again and again, leaning his back against the cool bathroom tile. Pulled up against him, Blaire nipped his lower lip. “I’m actually very glad Jim skipped out on me. I needed this.”

Blaire hadn’t had sex in a long time, and unfortunately, she hadn’t had good sex in even longer. Ever since the incident, she thought she would never be able to try it again. The idea of sex after it happened made her cringe. The disgusting feeling of fingers on her skin kept her unable to even fantasize. Even about her delicious neighbor in his armani underwear. However, she didn’t even think about it in his arms. His lips never made her feel icky. She felt safe. Safe and delicious. 

“I didn’t stay around to hear what you and he were talking about the other day.” Victor spoke softly as he brushed wet hair from her face. 

“It was just about what happened with Jefferson.” Blaire inhaled slowly and looked away.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Victor’s voice was soft and rumbly, it reminded her of a crackling fire at times. Sometimes it was odd and it ran shivers down her spine, it was deep in his throat and pitched at the same time. Only right now, his voice was deeper. 

“How about what brought this, fantastic, but surprising turn of events?” Blaire changed, stepping back into the water with one of the bottles that she read as body soap. Men soap, it was so thick and named oddly. Victor had scents like night time forest and frosty, she chose forest. Blaire was not ashamed of her collection of atleast 5 body soaps that were incredibly floral and bright colors, they left her soft and made her smell like a unicorn blessed her with holy water. 

“I was hungry.” He winked at her with a wicked grin as he took the soap from her and used it as well to wash off his own body. Blaire scrubbed off him and sweat, but enjoyed the sting. There were a few bites deeper than others, but all around there were just flesh wounds really. 

“And what made you hungry?” Blaire brushed her hair back with her fingers. Cleaning her hair would have to wait till she got home. As he had none in there… she didn’t know what she expected.

“You.” He answered point blank. “I wanted you.”

Blaire blushed as she twirled in the water slowly to wash off her soap. Victor stepped in behind her, flipping off the water as they were both clean. “Okay, well then… you promised me to answer what you decided.” She added as she turned back to him. Victor towered over her here. It was powerful on her breath as he looked over her face, then leaned to grab a towel. Blaire stood still as he dried her off methodically, then himself. 

“I decided I’m going to take care of you.” He answered point blank. Blaire didn’t know what to say, or if she was supposed to say anything. He made no indication she needed to. Instead, he lead them back to the room. He hung up the towel on the laundry basket and pulled down the blankets on his bed.

Finally something witty came to her brain and she grinned widely as she looked at him. “Does this make you my boyfriend.” She teased lightly. Only for her face to fall as he looked to her. 

“If you want to call me that.” He shrugged as he pulled the light switch and dove into the bed. His magnificent bed that felt like heaven and clouds. The bed he pulled her down into. The bed he leaned over her on and pressed soft, lazy kisses to her mouth. As if he was not sure he would ever get to kiss her again. 

“Don’t do that.” She looked at him in the darkness, watching what she could of the shadows on his face. He broke into the most evil grin as he kissed her more.

“Do what?” Blaire settled into his arms like they did this a thousand times. She ran her hands across him and settled on the scars on his arms. She wanted to ask what they were for, what he had done to get them. Only if she asked, he would ask something in return. Blaire was not ready for full truths just now. Instead, she counted the lines in her head softly, using them like counting sheep. Blaire yawned.

“That.” She retorted in a yawn as she continued her count. Victor pulled her in close, curling around her like a cat and kissing her hair.

“Good night.”


	10. Torture brings results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daily job with Victor Zsasz

Chapter ten: Torture brings results. 

Victor woke up on Thursday at exactly 9:40, his alarm not set to go off for some time but his phone was buzzing. He rolled to his left and opened his phone, the sounds of ‘shake it off’ played off his phone. A ringtone that Blaire had put on his phone three days ago. It had been a total of five days into this thing he had started and he found it was something so outerworldly comfortable. Something that should be so foreign, and he knew was odd for him. But for no reason at all, it was easy, and he even felt a smile on his lips as he flipped the phone open. Even on his older, less advanced phone, he could see her selfie easily as he tapped it open. She was in her room, getting dressed for what he believed was a day out with her grandmother. She had chattered on senselessly about just about everything.

She never expected him to answer or put in input, but enjoyed knowing he was interested in everything and anything. That was who she was, and it seemed once he broke that last barrier between them, he was never without a piece of her. Five days ago when she was crashed into his bed, she forgot behind her underwear. Victor had cleaned them and folded them, but she left them twice now. He believed she would never remember them, and he tucked them away in a drawer. Three days ago she had come over after he woke up, drank coffee, ate breakfast and skipped out on her daily run to flop on his couch and spy on his netflix. She was a disaster, always forgetting something, or out of order, tripped on the run yesterday while he was out and she sent him a picture of her grand mother patching her up with such a pouty face on. 

Blaire Roberts was his controlled disaster, and even now in the midst of insanity within Gotham, she was his. Victor should not have been so comfortable or happy with this as he was. Stretching, he walked into his bathroom. Brushing his teeth, he sent back a good morning text and flicked off his alarm. Why did he even set it anymore, she never let him sleep to his exact time anymore. She either texted him earlier than he set for himself, or she complained about not sleeping in. The day after they slept together she refused to get out of bed, nearly sleeping till noon. 

He was washed and in a pair of black slacks when the call came in. “Is Butch ready for use?”

Victor pursed his lips as he let the question mule in his head for a moment. “Yes, I believe he’ll do our bidding. Want me to test run him?”

“No, I trust your judgement.” Falcone sounded tense on the other end of the phone. 

“What do you want me to make him do?” Victor asked as he grabbed out a shirt and lay it on the chair next to his closet. 

“Give him to Oswald, Penguin can use all the help he can get.” Falcone hung up and Victor smirked. Clicking the phone shut, he pulled his clothing on. He straightened his bed, straightened all the items of clothing into the hamper and collected everything he needed for the day. Slowly, he opened the basement door just down the hall from his bedroom and descended. Stepping into the room, he looked to Butch who lay on his make-shift bed.

“Morning boss.” Butch murmured as he slowly rose from the bed. 

“Morning Butch.” Victor grinned. “Guess what, you’ve been approve for take off.” Butch’s face lit up and his eyes went wide.

“Wha-what?” Butch was up on his feet, dusting off his rags as he looked around. Victor pulled Butch’s hung suit from the wall and passed it through the bars. Butch took it softly and took a few steps back.

“Falcone wants you to help Oswald and the club.” Butch nodded with a soft face as he began to strip. Victor leaned against the wall behind him as shake it off began to sing through his jacket. He pulled the phone out to look at the screen.

“Is she upstairs?” Butch asked innocently, buttoning his shirt and tucking it into his pants before he pulled it tight and belted it.

“No, she’s not.” Victor answered simply. 

“Do… can assassin’s even feel love or affection?” Butch asked innocently with a cocked brow. Victor shot him a dark look, and the man shut up and looked back to where his clothes hung on himself. 

“Yes.” Victor whispered to himself as he shot a ‘going to work’ text to Blaire. He told her the first day that his work meant radio silence until he told her otherwise. She never questioned, and kept quiet. Which he thought she’d give up more of a fight, but then again, he was certain she still feared him. Just a little bit. 

“She sounds nice.” Butch added, “I hear her giggling all the time. Either you’re funnier than I thought, or she’s lost her marbles.” Victor let out a snort as he grabbed the keys to the cage and walked up to it. Butch took two steps back and stood still as Victor opened it and waved for him to walk out.

“I’m funny.” Victor stated as he walked behind Butch, the larger male walked slowly around the room and up the stairs.

“I wouldn’t know, you don’t tell me funny things.” Butch retorted with a smirk. Victor rolled his eyes but closed the door behind the two and motioned for Butch to keep going. They were out the door and at his car when his eyes naturally moved across the road. Blaire was not there and the old ladies car had already left. His mind went straight back to the car. 

“Your face is funny.” Victor smiled, his cheek clear in his proud eyes as he buckled into his car. Butch scowled, but looked away as Victor revved the car. It was 11:58, Oswald would be at the club at the moment. War was on the winds, he could smell it and Victor wasn’t a dog. 

The drive was silent as he came around the club. After dropping Butch at the back entrance, he told him explicitly to enter and wait for him to whistle for him. He had business with Oswald first. The front doors to the club, they were as he remembered them but they were less Fish. Dark purples where it used to be bright reds, crimson and black where it used to be blue and black. He was more vintage rogue than Fish themed it. He wanted more royal where Fish wanted more flirty.

Falcone believed Oswald could run this place, but Victor knew better. Oswald wasn’t a club runner, he wasn’t even a restaurant runner. He knew how Oswald thought, it was written all over his face. He wasn’t the type, he didn’t run the right games. Oswald was a big thinker, he was a scammer, he was blood thirsty. Victor ought to know, he could practically smell it on the smaller man. No, he was no club owner, just as Fish was no loyal dog. If only Falcone trusted him more. 

“Hello Penguin.” Violin? Really… was he trying to run himself into depression. The woman on the stage was good, but Victor wasn’t much for violin alone. It didn’t bring someone to life, it wasn’t for waking up. It was for putting someone to sleep. 

“Victor! How nice!” Oswald’s smile was forced. Most people forced smiles around him. He didn’t take it personally. With a snap of his pale fingers, Oswald’s crew stepped out and away from ear shot. 

“Don Falcone thinks you’re messing up.” Victor stepped closer to the smaller man. He flinched like any good prey should. “You don’t know how to run a club, your numbers… stink.” He made sure to emphasis his last word. 

“With all due respect-” Victor was not ready to hear his incessant whining. He had a job, and he wanted to return back to his regularly stationed job. 

“I DID not come here to TALK!” Victor watched as Oswald went visibly more white. Silence for the moment was almost laughable. For someone who talked so big, he shook so hard. 

“Good manners cost nothing, you know.” He almost seemed to whine, to whimper. Victor couldn’t wait for this next part. It was genius, he would laugh about it for days. With a whistle, his eyes turned, and Oswald’s followed. There like a good minion, stood Butch. Oh, the priceless look on Oswald’s face was almost worth the drive over here and Oswald’s incessant yammering. One day he hoped Oswald would grow up and see the world like Victor did. The man had promise, Victor could see it. Which is why he didn’t tell Falcone how he felt about Oswald other than his lack luster club owning.   
The stumble that Oswald had, the waddle backwards made him break out in a laugh. Oh, this was priceless… Blaire wouldn’t approve, which is why he was glad she didn’t have to see. She’d get puffy red in the face or tell him to be nice. She was always trying to brighten the world, her sunshine would die here in this pit… the pit he worked in. Victor looked to Oswald, then to Butch, laughing harder. If he could, he would have thought Oswald would have peed his pants he was so scared.

“Relax.” Victor snickered, looking back to Butch. “He’s harmless...Say hi Butch!”

“Hi!” The look on Oswald’s face was something he’d chuckle about for days.

“Falcone didn’t want to throw him away, so I worked on him in my basement for a couple of weeks.” Conditioning took time, but done the right way, it was a marvelous transformation of character. Victor felt smug as he eyed Butch, ever staring and ever still. “He’s a whole new man, right butch?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Zsasz.”

“Butch knows the club scene up and down, he’ll help you out.” Falcone just wanted his world back in order. Wither Oswald ran the club or Fish, as long as the loyalty in his family and his Gotham was under control, he could care less.

“But he’s… But he’s Butch Gilzean, he’s loyal to Fish Mooney.”

“And he’ll do… exactly, what you say.” Victor smirked. This was his favorite part as Oswald seemed to click all the cogs in his head together. Looking to Butch, he crossed his arms over his chest and watched his work unfold. 

“Hey Butch… dance for me.” 

Butch was already in motion when Victor smiled smugly to himself. “I do good work.”


	11. Three days prior to the big bad day

Chapter eleven: Three days prior to the big bad day

Blaire lay against Victors bed, her lips pursed as she looked out his window. He was in his shower, after letting her in, but asking she stay there. She suspected he meant it in not to get into his things. Blaire knew how organized this man was, but it was rather silly. Then again, she had her vices, and he never judged her for them. So she lay there still, bored of her phone and wondering what she could do to entertain herself. That’s when a soft tune played on Victor’s phone and she grabbed it without even thinking.

Flipping open his dinosaur phone, she saw the text message and eyed the words before her. “Victor…”

“Yes?” He was in the doorway to the bathroom and they met eyes. His eyes were wide as he saw her staring at his phone, and she had a look of confusion as she looked to him.

“Do you even know how to cook?” She asked, sitting up and handing him his phone. Barely able to keep his towel on, Blaire could visibly see him rush to take it. “It asks for you to bring muffins.”

“No, I don’t bake.” He corrected before putting the phone down. “You are nosy.”

“You knew this, long before you left your items alone with me.” She grinned as he smirked down at her. Before he slipped up onto the bed, crawling over her. Setting his phone beside her, he cupped her cheeks in his hand and pulled her in for a kiss. Blaire giggles as water trailed off his face and splashed her as he sloppily kissed her.

“Should I resist the urge to answer your phone?” She giggled.

“It’s mostly for work, short of your messages.” He spoke softly against her lips. 

“Understood.” She pecked his lips. “I shall not be a curious cat.”

Victor cocked his brow up at her. Before that grin grew on his lips as he looked down at her. “You want to know what the muffins mean.”

“So badly!” She whined from underneath him. She pouted. But she knew he enjoyed it when she did so, because his eyes looked her over like she were… breathtaking. Blaire had never had a person look at her like the way he did and man did she love it. 

“It’s a reference to a female who was known to be a… liar… it means to bring in a traitor, basically.” He answered. Blaire’s eyes went wide as she watched him speak. Traitor? Victor looked down at her as she studied his face, eyeing him suspiciously. Traitor? Was that supposed to mean something? Was it bad.

“Who is the traitor this time?” Blaire asked curious as Victor eyed her. “I don’t wanna know, do i?”

“No, but you want breakfast, don’t you?” Victor lowered himself on her, kissing her face all over. Blaire smiled, happy at the affection before he took over her face. It was this kind of silence between them, between kisses on her lips, that she loved. Because her eyes opened just enough to see him looking at her. He would scan every inch of her face. Blaire felt her lips curl up as she brought his lips to hers again, wrapping her arms lazily around him.

“So you are a mobster.” She snickered against his lips as he pulled her up with him. Refusing to let him go, even as he struggled to detach from her, Blaire could feel his chuckle. He tried taking her arms off but she latched onto him like a leech, leaving him to sigh and pick her up. Hoisting her up, he placed his leech on the dresser as he riffled for underwear and an undershirt. 

“No, I am not.”

“I can see it. My boyfriend Al Capone. Say, do you have a snoot suit? Is it pin stripped?” She teased, placing open mouthed kisses along his throat while she could. He escaped her touch to bend over and pull on his boxers before returning to her touch. 

“It’s more fashionable than that.” He smirked as he planted a kiss to her lips. “Are you going to let me dress?”

“Not if it takes you away from me. I know I shouldn’t ask you to skip work for me, but you should know, I’m pouting internally.” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Victor pulled one of his under shirts on before pulling one on her as well. Blaire was distracted by the scent, pulling it in close to sniff it, to notice him roll his eyes. 

“Dully noted.” He remarked with attitude, only to grin cheekily as she shot him a look. “What are you planning to do today?”

Blaire frowned as she fiddled with the shirt he gave her. She didn’t really want to tell him, to be honest. But she also favored his advice. With a sigh, she kicked her feet as she flopped herself off the dresser. Victor moved as if to catch her, but she stumbled back up to her feet, not thinking that she could be that clumsy. They shared a look as she broke out into a fit of giggles. “Die by jumping off a four foot dresser.”

“It’s not that far off the ground.”

“You clearly have no sense of my clumsiness.” She snorted lightly as she walked past him towards his closet. He began pulling out pants and a shirt, his vest and jacket as well. Blaire liked to touch the cloth and feel it between her fingers as he dressed. “I have to go into town today.”

“Oh?” Victor looked up, buttoning up his shirt. 

“Today is the day I decide if I settle on the Jefferson dispute.” She saw him instantly go rigid.

“I could-”

“Oh no! You have work.” She looked him in the eye. “And if I have to go adult today, so do you, Al Capone.” 

Victor narrowed his eyes on her as she twirled around in her closet. It was the small signs. His closet of dark and even colored clothing. The obvious weapons he carried, the morbid text messages. Victor was not some office worker. She knew it. Honestly she knew it. But Blaire didn’t want to ask, she didn’t want to find out. Blaire would rather live in the ignorant bliss of what he was actually doing. If she asked it would break the spell. Could she live with the answer? She didn’t even know.

“I’m not a mobster.” He whispered in her ear, arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back. “are you sure, you will be okay?”

“My grandmother is coming. I’ll be fine.” She answered with a confident smile. Turning in his arms, she looked him in the eye. 

“What are you planning on doing?” Victor asked.

“I’m going to tell Jefferson to kiss my royal ass.” She sauntered past him, bending over to snatch up her pants from the day before. “I’m going to go wash my hair, and put on mascara, and pretend like I can perform murder.”

Victor leaned against his closet doorframe as he watched her furiously pull on her pants and button them. Blaire may be filled with Unicorns and Rainbows, but dammit, she was done with Jefferson. She was no ones possession. She wasn’t a toy to be played with. She was a human. She was going to demand she be treated like one. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m done.” Blaire spoke up, turning to him and placing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Want me to bring alcohol home?” He asked as she puffed up her cheeks and her chest.

“A shit ton.” And with that, she whirled on her heel, marching towards his front door. It wasn’t until she was down his driveway that she realized what he had said. Home. Did she want him to bring alcohol. He was asking her if she wanted him to provide something for her. Blaire Roberts pulled back, resisting the urge to look back as she let the words sink in. When had she become so… domestic? The rich debutante Blaire Roberts who wanted adventure and to explore, was now enjoying cuddling on the couch with a bottle of beer, rolling around in bed with a stranger. But was Victor all that much a stranger to her?

Sure she didn’t know everything about him but that was half the fun. She knew he liked to wear black because it washed easy. He was determined to have his life in control and order but never forced her to do the same. He like the smell of her floral soaps, all of them. He was considerate of her emotions, and knew she felt the same. He made her laugh, he liked to listen because he wasn’t big on talking. His favorite color was green, despite her being convinced it was red. He liked mundane tasks on lazy days like mowing the lawn and cleaning his house because it was relaxing. He knew seven forms of martial arts but loved watching celebrity chef shows and his netflix was full of documentaries on animals and history. 

He always smelt like good cologne and his kisses were only ever rough when he was in the mood. 

Blaire liked to think she knew him good enough. 

She was in the shower the moment she got home, her grandmother still twiddling things in the living room. She was drying her hair and doing her make-up when her grandmother found her. 

“You spend a whole lot of time across the street.” Her grandmother looked at Blaire. Blaire tried to do her eyeliner without speaking, her mouth already open to keep her eyes open. “I hope he’s atleast being a gentleman.” 

Blaire let out a snort. “He’s very good to me, grandma.” 

Sarah Roberts let out a snort of her own and leaned against the counter. She dropped the subject as Blaire finished her face. Letting down her hair, she brushed it out with her fingers and watched it fall softly around her face. 

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Sarah asked, looking to her granddaughter. Blaire inhaled slowly. Talking big and squaring her shoulders would never be enough. She had to commit to this. Fingers raked down the counter as she looked in the mirror. 

“Are you behind me in this?” Blaire asked, looking to her grandmother.

“I will support you, always and forever. You are my baby, remember.” Sarah took Blaire’s hand and held it close to her as they looked to each other. “But if you do this, you have to be ready. No spirals downward, no depression. You grit your teeth, you take your lumps, and you fight like hell.”

Blaire looked to the mirror. “I’m done being their push toy. I won’t back down, not to him, never again.”

Sarah Roberts smiled, and nodded, before walking from the room. “Then lets get this hurricane on the road. Not lady like to be late to destroy an enemy. Just isn’t proper.”

Blaire smiled to herself as she followed Sarah Roberts towards the front. Pulling on her stilletos and her purse in the process. They were not going to run her through the mud because of their sins.


	12. The Big bad Day

Chapter Twelve: The big bad day

Victor had not expected to come home late on Saturday but he couldn’t avoid it. Falcone had him torturing a little rat into talking. A small deal gone wrong, Oswald outed the rat like he was good at, and Victor did what he was good at. He smelt like alcohol, but he had not been drinking. He was thankfully clean of the blood soaked suit he wore earlier. The whole world had seemed to be in radio silence. Blaire hadn’t texted him back at all since he said he was clear to talk again.

Which was highly unusual, but nothing worrisome. Blaire had been out in the public as of late and told him this morning she might just sleep the whole day. Three days ago she went in to fight the lawsuit against her by Jefferson and his family. They hadn’t talked about it since. She didn’t even bring it up. 

It didn’t matter, because it was all over the newspapers and Victor had been on edge since he’d seen it. 

“Roberts whore accuses elite of abuse of power.” Victor wanted to ask Blaire. Tell her to tell him what happened. But she didn’t even seem phased. Almost seemed giddy the whole day afterwards. She came over, drank a beer with him, buzzed about seeing Jim that afternoon. Talking about him and her getting dinner, which they had the night before. Blaire asked if Victor wanted to go, he said he couldn’t but said she should go. Meet his girlfriend. Who was not Barbara Kean, as Victor understood it. Shame, if he ever had to threaten Gordon, made it harder now that he had someone else in his life. 

The social paper was full of Blaire’s face with hateful words, but Victor never said a word. Her happiness was worth so much more than his curiosity. Though, when Falcone asked him about Blaire, Victor was on a tight rope, coming along the edge real quick. Not that he minded Falcone knowing his affection for Blaire. The man had been saying Victor needed a girl for decades now. Falcone had asked Victor point blank if he knew the ‘Roberts girl?’ and if she was truly what the papers said. Victor may have gone a bit overboard with burning the paper, but Falcone got his meaning.

No one was allowed to harm his ray of sunshine. His piece of heaven. HIS! His Blaire Roberts. She didn’t seem to care, but he did.

So when he rounded the corner to their neighborhood and found her sprawled out on the lawn in a pair of leggings and tank-top, staring up at the stars, he relaxed. Obviously without her phone, he realized she probably left it in her room. The girl would forget her head if it was not attached to her shoulders. The day before she left her phone at his home the whole day. Didn’t even realize it was gone till she came over to look for it after dinner.

“Hey neighbor!” She laughed as he clambered out of the vehicle. 

“Hey neighbor.” He called back, locking up. Victor had been three steps towards her when a vehicle came screaming down the road and halted right in front of her house. His feet pounded against the concrete as he barrelled towards the vehicle. The air was thick with gas and burnt rubber, and loud with a scream. Victor’s heart was in his throat as he came around the large black van and saw them. 

“BITCH!” Jefferson stood before Blaire. Victor only got to see him swing at her once before the dark of the night went red. Nerves gone cold, his energy was cold, he was cold blooded. The male that had been next to the van jumped at him. One switch, hands to his arms, screaming out of pain, Victor broke the male’s arm in three places. Turn, twist hips, brought the man up and over his shoulder, down onto the hood of the vehicle, his left ankle broken. Victor landed one last blow to the throat, stepping away as the sound of his last gasps did nothing for Victor’s blood thirst.

“I should have known you liked it rough.”

“GET OFF ME JEFFERSON!”

“You leave her alone.” Victor warned, a dark growl. 

“Victor! Stop!” Blaire’s cries were silenced as Jefferson wrapped his hands around her throat.

“How dare you! You evil little cunt! What are you? Trying to ruin my life!”

 

Victor had the third male in his hands as Jefferson’s rant stopped and both Blaire and he looked at him. Victor snapped his neck easily and dropped the body to the grass. Jefferson’s eyes went wide as he dropped Blaire. Sunshine was gone, his world was black. 

“Vic-vic….victor?”

“You whore! DID YOU PAY HIM! HE SHOT ME! CAME IN AND SHOT ME AND RACHEL!”

“I ought to have shot you in the head that day.” Victor snarled, his gun from his holster and aimed at Jefferson. The moon couldn’t even lighten the world tonight. Blaire stood breathless before him, but his eyes were on the blond male. “I will not make that mistake again.”

“You psycho.”

Victor was not going to take much more of this. No one hurt his Blaire. Victor didn’t even feel the gun go off. But he felt the thud in his shoes as Jefferson hit the ground. He felt the small splatter of blood on his face as he turned to the last male. He bolted from the spot, running across the yard and towards the road, but Victor let off the second bullet of the night. 

The world was quiet, the sound of gun fire silenced even the smallest sound. Holstering his gun, Victor turned to Jefferson. His neck bled profusely, but he had been dead long before he hit the ground. The red turned to silver, to soft blues and greens as Victor looked up to Blaire.

“Are you alright?” He asked as she stood there. She trembled, her whole body shaking as she looked to the corpse on the grass before her. Nothing about her body or eyes made him sure she even heard him. Tears welled up in her eyes and Victor stepped towards her. He wanted to wipe those tears, pull her in. But as he tried to touch her, the worst sound of the night filled his ears. 

Blaire screamed, flailing back and falling to the ground. Her eyes looked up at him with fear, tears streaming her face. Everything about her shook and Victor felt his insides snap. “No! Stay… stay away…” She whimpered, scrambling to her feet.

“What in the hell is-” Victor and Blaire looked up to catch the eye of the little old lady. “Blaire! Inside! Inside now!”

“No, Please.” Victor stopped himself in front of Blaire. 

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” He turned to see Sarah Roberts at the edge of the porch. Victor stood aside as he felt physical ripping. Like someone was yanking his organs out from his chest as Blaire scrambled towards the porch. He saw her crying, sobbing as she tumbled up the steps towards her grandmother. “haven’t you done enough already?”

Victor stood there in the middle of the yard as the old lady shoved Blaire inside. “I was trying to protect her.”

“You killed four men in front of her, how is that protecting?” Ms. Roberts snapped. Blaire was already inside the house and Victor wanted to follow. He should follow, apologize. Beg. Something!

“He would not stop unless I stopped him.” Victor replied, looking to the elderly lady. 

“Then clean up your mess, Mr. Zsasz. Clean it up and never come near my lawn ever again.” With that Victor watched the woman stepped inside the house and all the lights outside went out. Victor was in the darkness, breathless and empty. Victor hadn’t felt this empty in years.


	13. Into the Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***I realized there was a chapter missing earlier. So Chapter five has two parts now! I was reading through my original document and found it!

Chapter Thirteen: Into the nothing

Blaire was panting for air as her knees hit the floor in the living room. What had she just done. Her heart felt painful. Actual chest pain as tears filled her eyes. She had been so afraid. Jefferson had never been so violent. Not even drunk, he had never been violent. Had she truly made him so angry that day, would he do such a thing? Come hunting her down to attack her in her yard. He probably wouldn’t even do anything, knowing her grandmother was just inside. Everyone in their social circle knew Ms. Roberts was not a kind widow. 

Jefferson was just shouting, shaking her, grabbing her harshly. But there was this evil in his eyes. He was so pissed at her! HE HAD NO RIGHT TO BE PISSED! He dragged HER name through the mud. He was the one who attacked her. THIS WAS ALL HIS FAULT.

So why did she feel so guilty? Why was she crying. Sobbing, bent into her knees as she clutched herself close together. If she let go she’d fall apart. Because she saw it. Blaire Roberts saw all of it. The bullet went right through him and her heart stopped.

Blaire did not love Jefferson, and she realized too late she never really, truly did. But you are attached to someone for so long, they’re apart of you. Jefferson had been her whole life for six years. They were dating at the academy, engaged, it was her whole life. For six years, she did what he wanted, went where he did. When he went on vacation, she went even if she hated it. Blaire went to the bahamas for six years between august and september because Jefferson loved hot beaches. Blaire HATED the beach. She’d rather swim in a pool or a hot spring, she liked foresty treelines and mountain tops. 

For six years she let him drag her around, making her just another bobbleheaded party girl on his arms. For six years she drank all the alcohol he fed her, ignored how unsatisfied she was sober and intoxicated. But she did it because she wanted this. The glamour, the flash, the excitement, what she thought happiness meant to her. 

Blaire was not happy and the night at the party, when her future husband drunkenly tried to advance on her. After she came crying to him over the grotesque words of his best friend.Telling her he thought of her as so many dirty words. She was only as good as he said she was. Not once did he make her see herself the way she was.

It broke her. Finally all that pretty diamond exterior broke and she realized all too suddenly why her mother left. Why her mother dropped her off at her Grandmother’s late into the night when she was three and never came back. The glitz and glamour, this life was not a life. It was a death sentence for her soul. Blaire didn’t feel like a human anymore.

And yet, every day with Victor Zsasz, she felt it again. The person she was when she was little. The bright eyed, shimmering girl. The one who loved too much, spun too fast, and saw herself as she truly was. Blaire Roberts was fucking sunshine and Jefferson took it from her. Blaire Roberts took it back, broken and dim. No man would ever have the right to break her light again.  
Blaire watched the man who made her feel her sunshine again shoot the man who took it away.

“Blaire! We have to go.”

“Is he still out there?” Blaire yanked around. “I have… I have to go see him.” 

Sarah Roberts looked to her Granddaughter, the stumbling, covered in tears and red eyed mess. Her little hurricane all grown up and terrorizing cities and countries now. A mess all on her own. “No.”

“I need to apologize!” Blaire shouted, trying to push past her grandmother. She had screamed, she had jerked away. Things she never thought she’d do. She had been blind to him, she had ignored all the signs. It was obvious who he was, what he was. And she had been ignorant to everything in front of her. Victor Zsasz was a killer, and… she didn’t care. She just wanted him to hold her, to apologize to him for her rash behavior, to see him.

“No! You need to come with me.” Sarah snapped and the two stared at each other.

“Grandma….”

“No, your mother made your same mistake and I will not let the same fate fall on you. I will not lose another child to this city.” Sarah all but snarled as she took up Blaire’s arm. “Go, pack some things, you’re going somewhere safe.”

Blaire was in a whirlwind of confusion as her grandmother all but packed her things for her. Blaire was collapsed on her bed, shaking as the realization of what her grandmother just said to her fell down over her. Her mother… she hadn’t just… run away? Blaire looked to Sarah Roberts with teary eyes. The once strong grandmother who never wavered, who knew everything, suddenly seemed so human. Sadness filled Sarah’s eyes as Blaire trembled more. “What do you mean… lose another child?”

Sarah slowed her packing, setting the duffle bag on her bed beside Blaire. Sitting down beside her granddaughter, Sarah pulled Blaire in close. “Your mother loved you dearly, and wanted what was best for you. But she loved the socialite life just as much, along with your father. I warned her he was trouble… but it wasn’t enough to save her.”

Blaire’s heart and stomach clenched, dropped low into her toes and she felt like throwing up. “Did he kill her?”

“No.” Sarah whispered as she turned and pressed a kiss to her hair. “But he paid for her death.”

Blaire yanked out of her grandmother’s arms, tears falling down her face. “You said she ran away! You said she couldn’t stand it and left for something else.”

“You were only 4, would you have understood that your father paid to have your mother assassinated?” Sarah stated, her face soured with the pain and hurt of her memories. 

“I never knew him! But now I want to! I want to know who he is!”

“And that is exactly why I never told you!” Sarah Roberts hissed as she stood. Blaire watched her snatch up the bag and zip it up. “Because as long as I didn’t tell you, you’d never want to meet that murderer. His hands may be technically clean, but I still remember cleaning your mother’s blood off your bathroom walls. He killed her, and I swore I’d never let you be destroyed like her.”

Blaire trembled in her skin as she looked to her own feet. She accepted the bag without fuss as her grandmother walked around and flipped off all the lights. “But Victor’s not like him.”

“Isn’t he? Charming? Alluring? Makes you drawn? Makes you feel safe? Dangerous but he’d never turn on you. Sound familiar?” Blaire looked up and met her grandmother’s eyes in the dark. “Look, you go now, you stay away for two months, until those deaths never happened, and you are a ghost to the news. If after that, you still want to come back, and come back to him I won’t stop you.”

Blaire was unable to move as her grandmother ripped open the back door and ushered the suitcases and things from the house. Blaire stared out into the starry night, not sure of the future. Not sure of herself or anything that happened. Her brain stopped completely as she felt herself torn in two. 

To follow her grandmother out the back door. To leave this all behind, start again truly. What a fool was she to believe that she could leave the poison of Jeffereson behind her. The toxic life she once had, seeped into her skin and was always there. Ready to ruin her, and to break her heart all over again. How foolish was she to believe she could merely come home and get away. 

Or could she walk out the front door, walk through the bodies and walk towards Victor Zsasz. A life toxic and full of bodies. But could it be happy? Could she be happy? Knowing what he was, fully acknowledging what he was. Blaire turned from the back door towards the front. There was a soft knocking upon it. Like the kind desperate knuckles give when they don’t know what else to do. 

Her feet nearly fell off her ankles as she stumbled towards it. Her hands shook at the handle as she stood behind it. 

“Victor?” She asked through the door. 

“Blaire… I…” The door opened by her own hands as she looked to Victor. 

Jefferson never looked at her the way Victor looked at her. No one looked at her the way he did. Was this what her mother felt? Is this what her mother romanticized before her father had her killed?

“Blaire, I am sorry.” Victor’s words were tight in his throat, as if he couldn’t find his own bearings. Blaire grabbed ahold of his shirt. The feel of the fabric was grounding, as the shock began to pass. 

“I need… I need to go.” She murmured. “For me. To … fix me….” 

“Please, don’t go.” Victor stepped forward, his hands moved to cup her face. It only made her cry, and cry hard. She sobbed in the doorway, her body trembled. Her fist shook his shirt as she looked up at him with blurry eyes. 

“I need… to fix me first.” She blurted out. “I want to love you, but I can’t… not … with as much of a disaster I am.”

Victor watched in horror as she stepped back from him, letting go of his shirt. “Blaire, you’re not making sense.”

“I need to become a controlled disaster… Victor… do you love me?”

“Blaire, please-”

“When you figure out that answer… come find me.” Blaire turned and walked out the backdoor. The lights of a car in the garage across the backyard lit up. Blaire walked towards them and clambered inside the car. She saw the shadow of Victor Zsasz in the doorway of her house as her grandmother shot out of the driveway. If he was good at his job, then he could find her…. She just hoped he wanted to find her.


	14. Introducing father...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna thank Emma for the comment. Seeing it reminded me of my half finished chapter and how much I love this series. So going forward we will also be updating this!!!! <3

Chapter Fourteen: After all this time...

 

Victor Zsasz woke up every morning before Blaire Roberts, knowing exactly what he was capable of doing and what time he was going to accomplish it. Every morning after Blaire Roberts, his mornings and evenings and days became a whirlwind of control and chaos. After knowing everything, after controlling everything, it was weird for him to actively enjoy the surge of disaster she caused his life. Yet, every morning after Blaire Roberts disappeared, Victor Zsasz became aware of exactly how much damage his sunshine left upon him.

Awaking to his alarm and not a text would send him to march to his front door. No one was at Sarah Robert’s house. No one had been at that house. Not since that night. The big bad night. He could still hear her screams, he could still hear her crying… he could still hear Sarah Roberts threatening him. 

At exactly nine thirty every morning he awakes to his alarm. Then by ten he had jogged the neighborhood in silence, brushed his teeth, washed his body off, and started a pot of coffee. At ten thirty he is dressed and caffeinated for the day. Yet, what did it matter now. Without having her come over to disrupt it, without her, he would just… be. 

Exactly one morning after seeing her whisked away into the night, Victor Zsasz realized that if he could love… this was it. If he was capable of love, of truly feeling it, that this feeling was it. Not just the pain in finding small pieces of her. The scent of the pillow she usually used to sleep on. An odd end pair of underwear and a dirty sock. Pictures he had upon his phone. That pain was apart of it. But it was also the rush as he saw a car drive up into the driveway. His body bringing him to bolt outside and watch from his mailbox. The night she left, the old lady drove off from a garage stashed in the back, something he’d never thought of. 

But this car was not that car. Even in the dark he knew this car did not belong to Blaire or to Sarah Roberts.

Victor thought of turning in, just going back inside despite how stripped he felt. He also thought of telling the person not to even try. No one was in that house. 

The next day, all of Blaire’s accounts went inactive. Her phone was left in her grandmother’s house, her bank-statements seemed to end in a dead end, her passport untouched. Wherever she went, she was not going to be tracked. Not like Victor Zsasz was used to. Bean and Cho even hacked her email, cracked her facebook… nothing. There was no trace but the lingering image of Blaire and her words….

Come find her… ?

How was he to do that with no clue where to start?

A man stepped out of a SUV, the driver still behind the wheel. He stepped out like old money steps out of a limousine. This man wore nothing but black, despite being very pale. Brown hair slicked back, golden rings, he was rich and held his shoulders high. 

Then he turned to Victor Zsasz and Victor knew exactly who he was without having to ask. The color of his eyes, the way his lips curled at seeing him, his face. 

“Do you know this family?” The man jabbed a finger back at the house. Exactly six foot, on the nose, without even looking at his shoes. He wore a medium undershirt but a tailored large button up. His vest was ironed professionally, his shoes shined every night. This man, despite having money, punched many people. The swell of his knuckles, the color upon them and along the back of his hands. Even from this distance Victor could see it. The hands of a monster. Much like Victor’s hands. 

Except Victor’s hands were not as grotesque. He kept them clean and he kept them clear of bruises and breaks. Punching someone in the face was risky for many reasons… but though barbaric, was a solid shot. Victor preferred the elegant way of knocking someone’s lights out. This man, however, was used to choking the life out of people by force. 

“Some… many people in gotham tend to keep to themselves.” Victor answered, putting his arm upon his mailbox to feign fake relaxation. “They’ve been on vacation for a week… or so…”

The lie stung. Exactly 10 days, 8 hours and… Victor looked to the watch upon his wrist. 37 minutes since the last time he saw Blaire Roberts in person. 

“That’s too bad…” The man sighed before pulling open his door. “If you see Sarah, could you leave her a message…”

“I will try.” Victor Zsasz stated, keeping his face as pleasant as he could. No need to expose that he knew who this man was. 

“Tell her Leonard came by, looking for Blaire.” The man named Leonard grinned as he pulled open his door to step back in. “Oh, and tell her… it’s better if I find her first. Word on the street is… an assassin is looking for Blaire.”

Victor let out a boisterous laugh, his face hurt from the fake turn up of his lips. “This Blaire woman must be some sort of commodity!” 

The man’s face fell into a scowl as Victor pushed off his mailbox. “Some people are just… good property.”

It was Victor’s turn for his face to fall. Except for this time, he turned from the man and walked as chipper as he could manage back into his house. Even if Leonard was a fake name, it was enough to go off of. It was a clue… because if Blaire’s father was stupid enough to show up on her doorstep while Victor was across the street… then he was stupid enough to hunt her down.

Victor would need to find her first. 

The investigation into Jefferson’s disappearance was still on every newspaper. People were demanding to know what happened. And by people, he meant Jefferson’s parents. It seemed no one other than that and his current Fiance, no one liked the pest. Which was all the better news for Victor. Because once those bodies hit the Gotham docks, they would already be 90% devoured by the fish. 

Falcone didn’t hire unqualified people. If Victor was good at killing someone… he was even better at getting rid of the body.

And if he couldn’t find Blaire first, he would have to get rid of her father.

From all the digging he did around her. From all the scavenger hunts into his past and prying, he still had no idea who he was. Other than one file… the case file over her mother’s murder. An old cold case, left to be buried. As the only person accused was a faceless… nameless… ghost of a man. Blaire’s father now had a face and a possible name… and Victor Zsasz felt alive again.

Because the hunt was finally back on!


	15. Feeling alive again

Chapter Fifteen:

Was it too soon to call? Was it too soon to reach out? Sarah Roberts, her grandmother, made it very clear she was not to have any contact with him. Not for atleast three months, more if her grandmother had anything to do with it. Sarah Roberts would not loose another child to monsters of Gotham. Yet, it was better yet to keep them safe just outside of gotham. No paper trail, but not in the city. Just outside of it, along a long road that doesn’t seem to end. When it finally does, it’s a massive 100 acre plot of land. It has rolling hills and sparse willow trees. At the peak of the land, ontop of a soft sloping hill top, is a massive estate. “Gertrude’s home for battered women”.

No one was allowed in without an appointment. No one was allowed to enter without notice. Yet, Sarah rolled down her windows as they rolled up to the fenced off gate. The guards asked her name and when she spoke, they were instantly let inside. Blaire would have been more concerned if she didn’t know her grandmother as well as she did. If she wasn’t raised in the same household where Sarah often drove out here for work. 

Twice a month for a week long stay, Blaire and Sarah would arrive and help out. Cover breaks for other nurses and employees. They only employed women, even the guards were women. And it had not changed. Not even time damaged the estate. It still looked far too pristine for a house that stood for over a hundred or two years old. 

“I’m not a battered woman.” Blaire hissed, despite her grandmother’s demand floated in her mind. 

“Aren’t you?”

“This is imprisonment.” Blaire shot out to her grandmother. Sarah’s eyebrows shot up as they drove up to the building. “You can’t stick me in here, I have to volunteer.”

“Which is why I didn’t stick you in here.” Sarah shot back, motioning with her hands. The two of them turned to look out the passenger window and found the founder standing beside two nurses and an employees. They held the welcome packet and a bag which was likely full of clothes by the bulging around it. “I got you a job.”

“What?” Sarah shot a look back to her grandmother. 

“Working here, for 3 months, no car and no cell phone, you will be limited to working with who you could have become. Hopefully it will knock some sense into you.” Sarah explained before she motioned again. Blaire watched her grandmother’s face, but she wasn’t kidding. 

And that is where Blaire was. For a week, maybe two… had it been longer? The days blurred together as she went through the motions. Helping women move from room to room, shaking from fear they had been conditioned to feel. Reading to older women and smaller children. Sitting at tables and directing conversations, watching games being played. She did it all, from the moment she woke up till she went to bed. Days off were filled with more work that didn’t feel like work. Including events such as karaoke night in the hall, playing tennis with women her age, a tea party. It was surreal. It was … all just a dream. Like the kind she would imagine when she was with Jefferson. The kind of mental delusions she would fall into when she felt particularly upset or down. 

And yet being here she was oddly aware of Victor’s absence. She felt odd at specific times, flinching towards her phone that was no longer there. She wrote down thoughts and words and conversations she could be having with him. When she slept, she replayed everything. From the moment they met, to staying in his bed. From doing it all, seeing him look at her fondly.

Did he think of her? Did he love her?

It was those thoughts that drove her to do more at the estate. Because she was obsessed with him. She was fueled by his presence… not by her own. She felt it. Their relationship was tainted with her mental instability. She couldn’t find happiness even the softness of an afternoon under a pink umbrella… without him. 

And so she stayed. And she worked. And she stayed… and worked. She talked to people about everything but Victor. She wrote reports to the nurses and staff, even had sit downs with the other regular employees. She existed in their lives without him and tried to convince herself every day as she lay down into her bed that if she could just do this for her. If she could just fix herself… be less of a hurricane, less of a natural disaster of herself, then she could be alright. Then she could think objectively and finally put herself first. 

It wasn’t till just long enough to feel as if there was nothing outside of the gates. It wasn’t until she didn’t believe that life could happen past the 100 acre’s. That something happened. 

Blaire sat at a desk, smiling a fake smile, emotionless and a shell of who she was before… looking over text she tried to digest, when a face came into view. A familiar face. 

“Courtney?” Blaire let out the words like a balloon lets out helium. 

“Blaire… Roberts?” Courtney McKlegin, tall, blond, blue eyed, and the last person she saw on the arm of Jefferson. 

“What… what are you doing here?” Blaire murmured, stumbling to get out from behind the desk. Worst of all was the glaringly elephant in the room. An elephant that sat upon her face. A black eye, her eye blood shot from burst blood vessels, bruising so thick she might not have survived.   
“I came to the same breaking point you did.” Courtney shuttered as she tried not to cry. Blaire could smell it on her, the stench of suffering and abuse. All the women smelt of it at one point. Courtney held herself, eyes dropped to the floor. 

“But he’s dead.” Blaire cocked her head, stepping up. 

“His mother, she blamed me… she… i knew she would blame me.” Courtney broke into sobs as Blaire was barely able to catch her. 

“She did this?”

“He was supposed to be with me!” Courtney cried out, clinging to Blaire. A nurse flinched towards them but Blaire shook her head, making eyes with the woman in blue scrubs. “When he went missing, that night we got into a fight and I … He kept talking about you and I… I just…”

“Courtney, it’s okay-”

“She paid thugs to kill me….”

The words left a disgusting flavor upon Blaire’s tongue as she finally nodded to the nurse. There was nothing else she wanted to know. Like something within her snapped, she was up on her feet. No longer a shocked shell of a person. No longer empty and cold, hoping to feel better. She was angry. Rage filled her from her crown to her toes as she looked at Courtney. Bruises and cuts lined pieces of skin that Blaire could see as a nurse coddled her and eased her into a new seat. 

It was that rage that drove her outside to the garage and to take up keys that she was not allowed to have. Grabbing them from a box she wasn’t supposed to know the code to. Maybe subconsciously she knew she would escape. Maybe deep down inside she knew she would finally snap and leave. Because as Blaire drove down the driveway and out the gates, she felt no guilt. She didn’t even think of her grandmother or her mother. People she thought of every day up until this moment. Their faces were lost in the abyss of anger that filled her to the brim. 

Despite the anger filling her, she was incredibly still and focussed, not even noticing she traveled in complete silence back into the city. Once an unstable ray of sunshine that danced around a storm cloud… she now felt like the storm cloud, driving right to her ex’s parents house. The map to their house, the roads and passcode to the yard still fresh in her mind. The opening in their garage, the blind side in their cameras. Often abused so her and Jefferson could make-out and sneak out. Now used to gain access to a the household late into the night. 

Around the house, through the shadows, Blaire was like a shadow. 

She didn’t wake up from her rage trance until she stood above their bed, drenched in their blood… A kitchen knife clattering to the floor by her feet. Blood coated her hands, it colored her face, it tainted her mouth.

And…. Blaire felt so alive…

A smirk crawled upon her face as she ran a sticky hand along the cold hands of her first victims. Unaware of the pain… unware of the slaughter… unaware that it was the very girl they conditioned…. 

It was the first time Blaire Roberts felt alive in so long.

Then the panic set in and she ran from the room. Covered in blood, unsure what to do, she stood by the kitchen phone for a long moment. She could see herself in the glass cabinets reflection. Her fingers dialed him first. Instinct and fear drove her to put the phone to her ear.

“Who is this?”

And Blaire Roberts hung up on Victor Zsasz for the first time before bolting from the house.


End file.
